


Safe Harbor

by ItsALilah



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Actually he's just an asshole, Ahsoka Tano - Freeform, Angst and Feels, BAMF Leia Organa, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Consensual Sex, Dream Sex, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Smut, F/M, Force Ghosts, Fun with Force Bonds, Gray Jedi, Holocrons seem fun, Hux is a Misogynist, Hux is also a seriously creepy dude, Inappropriate Use of the Force, It's a Reylo fic, Loss of Virginity, Mentions of Emotional Abuse, Minor Original Character(s), Poe kind of sucks here, Post-TLJ, Skywalker Family Reunions, Slow Burn, Smut, Someone call Buzzfeed Unsolved, Space Virgins, TROPETOWN USA, The Author Regrets Nothing, The Force Ships It, The UST is brutal, The author takes slow burn seriously, Uneasy Allies, Unexpected Allies, Virgin Kylo Ren, Virgin Rey, Voice Kink, excessive use of the f-word
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-02
Updated: 2019-04-13
Packaged: 2019-04-17 02:53:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 43
Words: 168,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14178957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItsALilah/pseuds/ItsALilah
Summary: After the ultimate betrayal, Rey flees to the only person she knows she can still (kind of) trust.  But as she spends more time with Kylo Ren, she begins to understand just what kind of future he was offering in the Supremacy's Throne Room.She really doesn't hate it.  At all.





	1. Bait

**Author's Note:**

> It's been awhile (15 years or so?) since I wrote fanfic and this is unbeta'd, so hopefully this isn't terrible. Comments and constructive criticism are more than welcome!  
> My plan is to update weekly (more if possible), likely on Sundays.

Space was quiet. Blissfully so. The only sounds filling Rey’s ears were the hum of her small ship’s hyperdrive, and the sound of her breathing. 

It was funny. She’d been alone for fifteen years on that waste of a planet called Jakku, and when she first found the Resistance, Finn, Poe, Chewie, she’d relished in the constant sound. The hum of activity, the endless smiles, the curiosity. People. Other people who were happy to talk, to share.

All the time, it turns out, especially when everyone thinks you’re the Last Jedi and that’s the furthest thing from the truth.

A Jedi would be able to build their own lightsaber, no problem, she thinks with a frown. A Jedi would be able to gracefully smile and handle all the questions, the prying, the need to get some sort of acknowledgement from her. 

And, Rey briefly thought, a Jedi would definitely not struggle with attachments. Especially to a Dark Side wannabe Sith Lord that was currently ruling the First Order. And the galaxy. 

A galaxy he offered to her, mind you. 

She shook her head, turning her thoughts away from that dangerous path. Where was she? Right. 

The truth was, Rey was no Jedi. Rey may enjoy people, friendly faces, smiles, but she also enjoyed privacy. Space. She found that she especially relished having a bit of alone time, preferably without needing to literally locking yourself in a supply closet and hoping no one went looking for more cables. Just so she could think. 

Breathe. Breath and be. Just be. Just be Rey and not Rey, the alleged Last Jedi. Not Rey, the Hope of the Resistance. Not Rey, Luke Skywalker’s (begrudging) last Padawan. 

And especially not Rey, the almost Empress. 

She physically jerked her head at that last one, cursing her traitorous thoughts. But truth be told, he was a big reason why she liked ( _needed_ ) her solitude. To figure out what had possessed her to flee Ahch-To and run straight into the arms of Kylo fucking Ren, her mortal enemy, thinking she could save him. Her. Some silly uncivilized child from the Outer Rim. To figure out why this damned Force Bond that Snoke claimed to have created still lived on. Oh, and to keep her from getting deemed as a traitor or psychotic when people noticed her arguing with thin air. 

She’d told Leia, before the General fell even sicker. She knew the General had questions, could sense things. She’d look at Rey with those dark eyes that pried into her, more like her son than either of them would ever admit. The General didn’t believe that Rey had killed Snoke. No, she’d known something else happened the moment Rey showed her the shattered Skywalker lightsaber on the _Falcon_. It’d taken her a couple of weeks, but Rey finally spit it out one night while walking with Leia.

“I didn’t kill Snoke. Ben did.”

Leia froze at the name of the son she considered dead, her eyes rising to meet Rey’s, reflecting shock, heartbreak, but also hope. 

“Snoke ordered him to kill me. But he wouldn’t.” Rey’s words tumbled out, unable to be contained any longer. The secret was eating her alive, killing her, and here she was, outing herself to the leader of the Resistance and the one other woman who might understand what it’s like to feel your soul burn with hope for Ben Solo. 

“Why?” Leia’s voice was so small, so fragile. 

“We… we have a Force Bond. I thought I could save him.”

Back in the present, Rey’s heart ached. She missed Leia. The petite, feisty General had become a confidant for Rey, someone who helped decipher Ben. His fears, his hopes. Someone else who’d believed in him. 

But eventually, the cost of an untrained Force user being blown into space and saving herself from death by vacuum, combined with the losses of her husband, twin brother and close friend had finally caught up to the General. She’d been bed-bound, comatose for nearly three months. In her absence, Poe and Connix stepped up to lead the Resistance. 

And after a month of feeling more and more like a misfit at the Base; as well as a very close call with Finn and a particularly volatile visit from Kylo Ren via the Force Bond, Rey volunteered to handle supply runs. She was a good pilot, she was good at keeping her head down, she could use the Force to bail her out of all kinds of sticky situations, and she could handle being alone. She was a perfect fit. 

The first three runs went smoothly, including one to a Mid-Core world under the First Order’s control. Rey would slip in on her ship, meet with a benefactor’s agent, load the supplies, and slip back out before anyone noticed her. No problems at all. 

The next trip was when things started getting weird with her ship. It wasn’t that old, and it was in top working shape - Rey made sure of that. It was a small, non-descript personal craft, one that a small merchant or even a family traveling between worlds might use. But as she’d left Corellia after meeting with a wealthy old friend of Leia and Han’s, her ship had jumped out of hyperspace at the wrong location. That was weird. Even weirder was that the small, personal transport ship had dropped out far, far too close to the First Order’s fleet. Her only saving grace was that they were already jumping to hyperspace when her ship appeared behind them.

The Bond had snapped to attention. 

_**Rey.** _

And then they were gone, and he was gone, and the Bond went back to sleep. 

So yeah, that was weird. But the next run went as smoothly as the first ones, and so she’d brushed it out of her head as some sort of weird coincidence and made sure to completely re-build the hyperdrive on her loaned ship. 

By the sixth trip, the Resistance had dubbed the ship the _Ackbar_ , a homage to the late, great Admiral. She’d been only mildly annoyed that she wasn’t given the honor of naming a ship that she’d laid claim to, by sweat and blood and possession. On Jakku, possession alone with enough to make it hers, but not here. Not in the Resistance, where nothing was ever truly yours.

Sometimes, for the briefest moment, she misses the simplicity of Jakku. 

On the sixth trip, the damned ship rebelled agan, apparently so displeased by its name that its comms system went completely on the fritz. At one point, it started broadcasting a kriffing distress beacon on _all known channels_. Luckily, Rey was able to quickly use the Force to take all comms systems completely offline before jumping to hyperspace. She’d had to miss the drop because of it. 

“How the kriff did your communications system get fried by… are those lightning marks on the wiring?” Finn had asked once she returned, incredulous. A rare visit from her increasingly distant friend.

Rey had just shrugged. “I told you we should’ve named it the _Porgcatcher_.”

Since Rey wasn’t able to collect the waiting supplies on that run due to her ship’s untimely decision to try to get her captured and killed, she was now out again, back in the silence of space. She’s back on the _Ackbar_ , although she’s been quietly calling it the _Porgcatcher_ , hoping that that, her extensive maintenance, obsessive checking and testing, as well as using the Force to diagnose any issues, would discourage any further mutinies. 

‘So far, so good,’ she caught herself almost thinking, watching the soothing blue blur of hyperspace streak by the cockpit window. She’d made it to Dulathia, where Connix’s own well-connected family had supplies waiting. Food, bacta patches, even some of that Dulathian chocolate that Connix wouldn’t shut up about. The Bond had stayed blissfully quiet. It was there, but right now, Kylo seemed content to let her go about her mission without interruption. She occasionally felt a prick of irritation that was not her own, or sweat mysteriously trickling down her head when she was freezing cold, but otherwise, he left her uninterrupted. And while she sometimes felt like she was not alone, that she’d gained an extra shadow, she chalked that up to her ever-present Bondmate in her head and her own excessive paranoia. 

Now, she’s flying back to the current Resistance base on Endor’s moon, a reconstituted Imperial installment that had been previously blown to smithereens by General Organa herself. 

**BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP**

A loud alarm, shrill and incessant, suddenly jerks Rey out of her reverie as every light on the control panel seemingly lit up at once. The ship began to rattle, and the streaks of stars making up the familiar blanket of hyperspace began to slow. 

“FUCK! Fuck fuck fuck fuck not again! C’mon, _Porgcatcher_ , don’t do this, please!” Rey begged as her hyperdrive suddenly dropped completely out. She saw a distant planet ahead of her, not too far. It was lush and green and familiar. 

‘Takodana,’ she realized with a shiver. Maybe, if she could get the ship to Takodana, Maz would be there and she could help her. Find her a ship that doesn’t want to randomly quit at everything. 

Rey desperately punched the hyperdrive reset button on the control panel in front of her, but it was no use. It, and her nav computer, were hopelessly frozen. Rey couldn’t help but pound her fists against it, crying out with frustration. 

‘Hit the killswitch,’ that inner voice whispered, the one that lived in her subconscious and Rey identified as the Force itself.

Without second thought, Rey reached over to the other side of the dashboard, just under the comms system. There, her fingers found the secret little switch she’d installed after the comms system disaster during the last run. With that, her comms system were all taken completely offline. A less destructive version of what she’d done before, one she could easily reverse.

She couldn’t help but feel a little triumphant, like she’d bested the ship at its own game. 

She stood and stalked back past the small sleeping unit and towards the engine room. In there, she found the switches for the main and auxiliary power feeders to the engine, hyperdrive, and navigation system, and switched them all off, leaving only power and functioning to the life support systems. The ship went dark for a moment before only the emergency lights flickered on. 

It took a minute for her eyes to readjust to the darkness. She could only hear her breath now, the slow, steady breathing mixed with that low hum of the Force that signaled -

‘Oh, FUCK.’

==================

She really didn’t need to deal with Kylo Ren right now. Her ship was throwing some sort of monumental temper tantrum that even he’d be impressed by; she was definitely in First Order controlled space; she had no nav system; and he looked far, far too amused by her whole situation for her comfort. 

“Problems with your ship?” he grinned. He was sitting, but with his feet propped up on something (a desk?) wearing his usual all black ensemble that he’d refused to change even after assuming the title of Supreme Leader. His shiny black hair looked freshly washed and soft, like it was begging to be touched. 

Rey struggled with her mind, begging it to behave long enough to get the Bond back under control so she could focus on her ship. 

“No,” she swallowed, trying to look as cocky as possible. “I’m just testing some things out.”

“Mmmhmm.” Kylo was not convinced. “Are you sure that it has nothing to do with the fact that last time this happened, your ship started screaming that Rey of the Resistance was stranded just off of Corellia?”

She narrowed her eyes at him, hating how his lips twisted into a smirk. The bastard knew…

“Of course I did. You think our Intelligence wasn’t all over that? Anything to do with you comes straight to **me**.” The way he said that last part was almost possessive, and his gaze darkened for a moment. 

“Also, Hux is the bastard, I’m just a -“

“Asshole!”

“There it is.” He was smiling now, throughly amused by the rising fury in his nemesis. Rey knew she should calm down, breathe, be a good little Jedi. 

But she wasn’t a Jedi. She’d learned how to float rocks, meditate, and that Jedis tended to be even more self-righteous and infuriating than Dark Siders, and that was it. Plus, she was really, really pissed and Kylo Ren was such a fun target. 

“I don’t suppose you’re going to offer anything other than witty commentary?” 

Kylo’s face sombered for a moment, like he was honestly considering helping her. Maybe, she hoped, he was a little more Ben Solo today, and would let his compassion come through. 

Then again, she ruined any compassion he had for her when she left him unconscious on the floor of a burning Throne Room, turning down his offer to join him.

“Nope, just witty commentary.” The devilish sparkle was back in Kylo’s dark eyes. He really could be quite handsome sometimes, and her heart twisted on itself for a second. That familiar yearning feeling rose deep in her chest, in her core, and she had to clench her fists to keep herself from getting too caught up in him.

“Not even going to come chase me down? After all, I’m the perfect target right now. A sitting duck.” Rey scowled, trying to goad him into saying something, something horrid and cruel that would cause her to hurt and the Bond to sever, as if desperate to shelter each other from their ugliness. 

He didn’t bite, but he did move his legs off the table, slowly. He put his elbows on his knees and shifted forward, towards her, his chin resting on his hands. His eyes, those damned expressive eyes, were now inquisitive, searching her, as if trying to decipher her very being. 

Her breath hitched in her throat.

‘Oh, no, no, no, no. Do something. Piss him off. Stop this, NOW!’ another voice in her head, the one called self-preservation, shrieked.

“Or is the great Supreme Leader too afraid of some weak little half-trained Padawan?” she went right for the ego on that one, knowing that Kylo’s wounded pride would always awaken his infamous temper. 

For a moment, she thought he was taking the bait. His eyes flashed, dark and violent, and his body began to rise out of the chair in indignation. 

“I’m sure you and your little Resistance friends would love for that, but I am not that easily fooled.”

**_I thought you knew me better. This is too obvious, even for you._ **

Rey paused, confusion flooding her mind as he started to root around in it for answers. Normally, she’d kick him out, but something else was off. This whole situation was off. And what did he mean, “too obvious?” And why did he think her friends were -

**_You don’t know._** Even in her head, the shock in his voice matched the one now apparent on his face. He leaned back, a brief huff of breath escaping him. 

“Know what?” She demanded, her voice pure steel now. What was he playing at? What did he mean? Why had that yearning feeling in her stomach turned into a heavy swirl of dread, coating her insides?

“Know what, Kylo Ren. Tell me. What do you mean?” She stepped towards him.

“Ah, so I’m Kylo Ren today.” He almost sounded sad.

“At least I call you by a name.” She shot back, reminding him that he refused to even lower himself to allow her name to fall from his lips. As if saying ‘Rey’ would damn him to all eternity. 

The look on his face made her wonder how close to the truth that was. But he didn’t force his face to return to cold impassivity like he usually did. His face was now a confluence of emotions: concern, fear, sympathy, anger, and something else. Something she hadn’t seen since the Throne Room, since he watched Snoke torture her before him, screaming and writhing in pain. 

“Your ship conveniently keeps sputtering out on you when you’re alone and in First Order territory. Kriff, it tried screaming out and begging me to come find it! You know there’s nothing wrong with it. Force, you even came to me asking if I’ve heard of something like this. I suspected then, but I never thought they would dare risk something so precious, so important…” he trailed off, and for a second, Kylo Ren was completely gone from his features. The soft look, the worry creasing the pale skin around his eyes, his deep voice becoming more velvet than steel.

This was Ben Solo before her, and Rey felt her traitorous heart sing with hope for a brief second, before his words, the implications sank in. 

_No._

“They wouldn’t,” she croaked, stepping back as if facing something more horrifying than a rancor.

“No? It’s just coincidence that this keeps happening?” His voice started to rise. “It’s just coincidence that your ship locks you out so that even you, a mechanic, one of the most powerful Force users in the galaxy can’t get it to work? It’s just a coincidence that your friends are waiting, just on the dark side of the planet, hoping that it all works this time?”

“No!” Tears are stinging at her eyes, the sick feeling in her stomach rising into her lungs, her heart. They couldn’t be, they wouldn’t, they didn’t know and even if they did, they wouldn’t…

Would they?

She reached out with the Force, in desperation, flying out with her mind into space, around the curve of Takodana’s swirling cerulean and emerald, to the shadowy side of the planet still bathed in night. She hoped to find nothing there. 

What she found broke her heart. 

Three squadrons of X-Wings lay in wait, Black Squadron posed in front. The leader ship, further out than the rest, monitoring the situation, was black with gold racing stripes down the side. Black Leader’s new ship, recently replaced to match the one destroyed on the _Raddus_. The pilot was all too familiar to her, olive skin, dark, teasing eyes and dark, curly hair to match a roguish smile. 

“C’mon, Ren, where are you?” Colonel Poe Dameron hissed. 

“Maybe we should’ve put her in the lingerie,” a voice, male, familiar, crackled over the radio with a laugh. A fellow Resistance pilot, one that (in the beginning, at least) had been desperate for her approval. Her hope. 

Rey let out a choked sob as she sank back, her mind returning to her body as bile rose in her throat.

“I never thought they’d be so stupid. To endanger you like this, to use you as -“

“Bait,” she cut him off, tears now flowing freely. She was bait for Kylo Ren. Her friends, her family had betrayed her, had put her up like an offering, like she was…

Somehow, Poe, Connix, Finn, all of them knew. They knew about the Force Bond. They knew about her and Ben. Kylo. And they responded not by shunning her, not by branding her a traitor, no. 

They used her. Just like the slavers on Jakku, like Unkar Plutt. Like her parents, willing to barter her life, her soul to get them a little closer to their happiness with no regards for her own. 

Like she was **nothing.**

Rey let out a strangled scream, one of heartbreak, rage, anguish. She hadn’t screamed like this since the night after Crait, when she’d cried into her pillow for hours on end, her brain chanting ‘Stupid, stupid girl’ over and over again. 

Ben started up, moving towards her, as if to grab her, comfort her. But the Force was cruel, and at that moment, the connection broke, yanking him from her in her most desperate hour. 

**_Rey._** She could’ve sworn she heard, but it was no comfort this time as she found herself truly alone, betrayed and heartbroken, floating aimlessly in space. 

==============

She spent about five minutes taking every ounce of her rage out on her ship, screaming, crying, kicking, beating, thrashing every thing she could. Her hands bloodied, she broke a toe kicking something hard and sharply angled, but the pain seemed muted, far away. She used the Force to pry containers loose and toss them around. 

At the end, she stood there panting from exertion, face red and blotchy and tears still streaming down her face as she surveyed the damage. 

Even Kylo Ren would be impressed, and she didn’t even have a lightsaber. 

An odd, eerie calm took over her, fed partially from her Bondmate who seemed desperate to reconnect. She looked around, and her brain, (always a scavenger) started planning. 

Next move. Next moves. 

She had to get away, clearly. For her safety, as she couldn’t guarantee that Hux wouldn’t be dumb enough to take the bait and Force only knows how far they intended their little plan to go. 

But also for his. 

She would not let their Bond, let her be used to bring him to his death. 

No. 

She had to get away, but she needed a new ship. She wouldn’t get far in this one. Luckily, she had the Jedi texts (though they were absolutely worthless to date, filled with leaping platitudes about serenity) and the shattered pieces of the Skywalker lightsaber with her. She never left them behind. So no need to return to base, which was good, given how she could feel how unbalanced she was. 

How close the Dark was, she realized. 

‘ _Give in_ ,’ the Dark Rey that lived in her head hissed, spinning her promises of vengeance, of retribution, and something else, something that Rey was not anywhere ready to admit she wanted. 

She took another deep breath, trying desperately to center herself. Unsurprisingly, Luke’s paltry lessons weren’t enough to truly silence the darkness, but it did allow her to reach some sort of compromise. 

Her lips formed a determined line, pressing into themselves. She stepped over some shredded pieces of metal, back to the engine room entry way. She flipped the power switches back on, and the ship lurched back to life, the surge of energy audible as it returned. 

She strode back to the now-silent cockpit, sliding back into the captain’s chair. Everything was back to normal, and she had to quickly punch in commands on the keyboard in front of her to stop the ship from jumping back into hyperspace and onto her previous course. 

She took another deep breath and let the cold numbness wash over her, stabilizing her. 

She reached out with the Force, letting it guide her through the cables and connections into the operating system itself. Let the coding speak to her, telling her, guiding her to what she needed. The Force felt different now, more like it did when she fought Kylo back on Starkiller Base, when the Dark Side called. It was tainted, inky black tendrils seeping into the light, but she didn’t really care. 

_There._ She found the override codes - belonging to Poe - allowing him complete control over the nav system, comms and hyperspace controls, carefully hidden where no one would find it unless they knew exactly what to find. Using the Force, she reached out, delving deeper into the system and erasing the overrides completely, freeing her ship. She also disabled the trackers while in there, before pulling herself back out, satisfied.

‘Step one: check.’

Her hand reached back beneath the dash, and flicked the comms killswitch off. It then moved up, almost as if acting on her own, to her own comms mic.

She flicked it on, keying in the code for Black Leader’s comm. Except, when she did so, she used Finn’s access code, one that she’d committed to memory back when he started avoiding her. 

‘He knew,’ she realized, and for a second, the Darkness almost took her again. 

“Finn, buddy, no news yet. I don’t know what Ren is waiting for-“ Poe’s voice crackled over the distance, flooding the cockpit. 

Rey narrowed her eyes in his directions. If looks could kill, Poe Dameron would undoubtedly be a dead man. 

Lucky for him, Rey was not a Sith, and also not a Jedi, so her glare was, currently, non-fatal. 

“Maybe you should’ve gone with the lingerie, Dameron.” Rey’s voice was cold, but almost a purr.

“Rey! What-! How-?” Panic radiated off of his voice as the Colonel realized just how fucked he was. 

“Jedi, remember? I can read your mind, Dameron.” She lied, and it was an effortless one. But then the raging black got the better of her, and she didn’t wait for a response. “How far did you intend for this to go? Were you going to let them take me? Torture me? Kill me?”

“No, Rey, listen, kid-“

“Don’t you ‘kid’ me. Don’t you fucking dare, Poe Dameron!” Her voice rose, and fresh tears threatened to escape. “How _dare_ you treat me like some piece of meat, like some… sacrifice for your precious little victory! I trusted you, Poe. I trusted you, and Finn, and Leia, and Connix - I thought you were my friends, my family!”

“You weren’t exactly honest with -“

“Oh, don’t even start. I had every right to hide the Bond and obviously I was right to do so!” The last words were a shriek, and Rey paused for a breath.

“Rey,” he started again.

“No. I gave up _everything_ for you all. For the Resistance. Because I thought you were my friends. Because I thought -“ Her voice broke. Damn her weakness to Hell. 

“I thought you were different than them.” Her voice was now a whisper, and she had to gulp back that wretched bile and another sob, finding the strength for the next line. 

“But now I see that I was wrong. You’re no different than Hux. You’re no different than the First Order.” 

She knew she hit deep with that one. She could sense it from here, a planet away. He was silent, and she used that opportunity to end the comm. She switched the killswitch back on and immediately punched in new coordinates to a place where she could easily disappear. 

The stars outside twisted and screamed as she jumped into hyperspace, leaving the Resistance behind. 

The last almost-Jedi then curled into a ball, burying her head deep into her knees and finally let the sobs of a broken, abandoned child flow free.

 

===================

 

Poe Dameron was a dead man.

The red saber cut into another training droid, not that Kylo even noticed it’s presence. His rage, his fury was far too consuming at this point, and all he could do was destroy. 

Sure, the Resistance leader was already a dead man. For starters, his position made him _persona non grata_ in the First Order. Add to that the few times Kylo had caught him trying to flirt with Rey - _his_ Rey - while the Bond was opened and Poe’s fate was sealed. That he was also Organa’s willing lapdog (the son she always wanted) didn’t help his case. 

But the fact that he’d not just gambled with Rey’s life, but had hurt her so deeply, tearing her soul apart through his callous betrayal? Poe’s number was up. Kylo vowed that it would be prolonged and incredibly painful when he killed the obnoxious pilot.

Something, he realized, he could do sooner rather than later. 

The familiar inner conflict roiled over Kylo, one that he struggled with every day (although much more calmly now that he was mostly alone in his head). The one side of him, the dark, reckless side that ran on sheer emotion and ego demanded he go blow Poe Dameron out of the sky. He knew where their base was, he could meet him there just as he returned from Takodana. Then he could immediately go to Rey and force her to come back to the Finalizer with him. Where she’d be save from anyone and everyone who would try to hurt her to hurt him. 

Except if he did that, he’d not only likely have to confront his mother; something that he’d avoided for the last couple of months. And he’d end up back at square one with a very pissed off Rey who likely would not see his chivalry and instead do all in her power to hurt him until she escaped. Probably take out a couple of ships, too. 

Which meant that was not an option, said the stronger, calmer, more rational side of him, the always purposeful scientist, the son of Leia Organa and grandson of Padme Amidala. The one who’d grown up watching political machinations and manipulations, acts he detested but had quickly learned as Supreme Leader were … _essential._

He’d worked very hard since then to learn to calm the rash, emotional and slightly unhinged part of him. He didn’t chain it up or wall it off like a Jedi, no. That side of him was still important and essential to who he was. But, unlike a Sith, he refused to be enslaved by it. Something he’d struggled very much with until he sliced his old Master in half using his grandfather’s lightsaber. 

He always wondered how much of his instability was Snoke’s machinations. 

His newfound patience and willingness to engage in long term strategy had helped cement him as Supreme Leader. After the humiliating debacle of Crait, Kylo Ren faced a coup on every level if he didn’t reform quickly. The officers and the troopers all hated General Hux, but they at least thought Hux would be competent enough to lead, and easy to overthrow once he wasn’t. Kylo spent weeks on damage control, making sure his temper never showed in public, endearing himself to the officers and improving the Stormtrooper’s rations and leave. 

Because Hux may have been competent, but he was openly sadistic, cruel to anyone whom encountered him. The officers especially had no lost love for him, his tactics, his brazen ambition that had led him to having his father assassinated for power. With Hux in charge, they knew the Order would flourish but they would be crushed. 

Once they had an alternative that was not only competent, but seemingly less inclined to make them die a slow, cruel and tortured death, most of the officers gladly allied themselves with Kylo. 

Hux was still a problem. The insufferable weasel wanted him dead, still lusted for Kylo’s power. His throne. Felt that Kylo never earned such a position; and also believed that Kylo’s hands were covered in the former Supreme Leader’s blood. Something which he didn’t fault him for, as had Hux had the balls to try to off Snoke himself he would’ve, but something he very much intended to use against Kylo when the time came. 

Luckily, Hux had not decided to re-adjust his attitude, meaning that the officers and rank and file still hated him, giving Kylo some much needed security as the Supreme Leader. 

Security that would be undermined if he flew off to kill Poe Dameron at this very moment. 

No. Poe Dameron’s end would come, but Kylo had all the time in the world. Right now he needed to focus on Rey. She was hurting, he could feel it through the bond. Like a wounded animal, she’d lashed out at him, and he’d almost lost control. He needed to be even more careful when it came to her, but he couldn’t ignore her pain, her heartbreak right now. 

One that he knew all too well. 

He told himself he was doing this because it was the perfect opening to bringing her to his side and ending the war and the Resistance. If Rey fell to the Dark, or Hell, just to him, there would be no hope for the murderers, traitors and thieves still fighting him, despite all the improvements he’d made. 

He wonders how much news his mother and Dameron allowed to filter through. 

Kylo deactivated his lightsaber, closing his eyes and opening his mind up fully to the Force, to the Bond, to her. All the stars in space and that silvery cord anchored in their minds was the clearest thing he could see, calling him home to her. He could sense her more clearly the moment he reached for the Bond. She felt more still now, her mind more open than before. Signs that Kylo now knew meant she was asleep. 

The familiar hum of his star destroyer’s engines faded away, his heartbeat thrumming in his ears. He opened his eyes to see her, only her, curled up in what he imagined was the pilot’s seat. She’d brought her knees to her chest and fell asleep hugging them tightly to her, as if trying to protect her broken heart. Tears still slipped out of her closed eyes every so often, her head resting on her knees. A broken sob slipped out, her dreams forcing her to relive that moment of betrayal over and over again. 

He slid down onto one knee, bringing him to her level so he could study her more closely. His hand trailed over her head, not touching but still soaking in the warmth of her freckled skin, much like he’d done on Starkiller Base. 

She shivered slightly, although he didn’t know if it was from the cold or something else. Before he realized what he was doing, he unhooked the durasteel clasp of his cowl and wrapped it around her, enveloping her in darkness. 

She sighed gently, and shifted into it. 

“Ben.”

Hearing his name, even that name, sighed through her pink lips in such a manner did things to his soul and his cold, black heart. He felt it stutter in his chest and his mind shot him a picture of Rey saying it in the same way while wrapped in his embrace, eyes hazy and half-glazed with passion, those pink lips swollen from his own. 

'Down, boy,' he reminded himself. 'Now is not the time to press your luck. If she woke up to that, she’d probably slice you in half with your own lightsaber.' 

He had to be patient. After all, Poe Dameron and the Resistance had given him such a lovely gift, had they not? Before, he was agonizing about how to make her see that she was just a tool, a weapon, a body wielding the Force to them. Just like he was to Snoke. And that they were not the holy saviors of the Galaxy she thought they were. 

But then that idiot started sending her on these little missions, while making sure to basically broadcast on all systems that Rey, the Last Jedi, the Light of the Resistance, was traveling alone and unarmed to a Core Planet and was ripe for the taking. 

They were lucky that he was able to easily convince Hux that something so obvious was obvious either a trap or purposefully bad intel. Had Hux captured her, he would’ve probably tortured Rey within an inch of her life before Kylo could save her.

The Darkness roared, and he dug his nails into his thigh to calm himself before she sensed it and woke up. 

Once he had Rey, she would be safe. He wouldn’t have to worry about Hux finding her first; Hell, maybe once she saw into Hux’s mind she’d kill her himself (and he’d gladly let her).

'All in good time,' he reminded himself. He’d never been a patient man, but Rey was worth the wait.


	2. An Unexpected Offer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously: Leia's in a coma, Poe takes charge of the Resistance and learns about Rey and Kylo's Bond. Naturally, Dameron and the Resistance try to use the Bond to their advantage, betraying Rey's trust and sparking some serious rage. Rey's now running away from her former friends, heartbroken and angsty AF. Meanwhile, Kylo Ren really is Leia's son and is actually doing a decent job as Supreme Leader. He's still totally evil though, except when it comes to a sad Rey, and then he's just a god damn cinnamon roll. 
> 
> Now Rey's trying to figure out where the Hell she can hide from both the Resistance and the First Order when the Force conveniently decides to reconnect our angsty duo. Luckily, Kylo has a Plan (well, kind of) and a proposition for Rey. Cause *that's* worked before.

_Warm._

Rey’s fading dream was bathing her in warmth, the last tendrils wrapping around her brain as if refusing to surrender to her consciousness. At first, her dreams were solely nightmares, scenes of betrayal and fear. In one, she dug out the blade of a knife Finn planted in her back with an anguished scream. In the next one, she saw Poe selling her like a slave girl to the First Order, to Hux, to Snoke. 

But her nightmares suddenly shifted to a far more pleasant dream, one that was more of a memory painted with the soft tones of regret and lost chances. Her small, ancient hut on Ahch-To, its stone walls bathed in the soft glow of the fire before her. In her dream, she sat wrapped in a coarse blanket, facing Ben Solo. Just like it happened, she’d met his eyes, her own swimming with understanding and need and _want_ , as she’d stretched out one small hand towards his. 

In her memory dream, Rey looked into his pretty brown eyes, studying them, studying him. _Ben._ His eyes gazed back, communicating not just solidarity, but something like desire that made Rey both want to jump away from him and into his lap. 

And then the dream went from memory to repressed fantasy as Dream-Ben’s lips brushed against Dream-Rey’s. And oh, how he’d kissed her in her dream, those soft lips caressing hers so gently, softer than she’d imagined as the firelight danced across their faces. 

At first, his kiss was all Ben Solo: sweet, romantic, almost chaste. Then he’d wrapped his hand into her hair, fingertips brushing her scalp and sending electricity from her head to her toes. He’d deepened the kiss, angling her so he could bring her closer, his tongue delving into her mouth and setting her body alight. 

‘A girlish fancy of a dark prince that would never come true,’ Rey reminds herself, trying to bring her body back under her control. 

She can still smell him, she realizes, even now as the dreamworld fades. It’s that uniquely Kylo scent of lightsaber, soap and a bit like a fine cigar, vanilla and musk and tobacco all in one. She breathed in, not ready to face the wretched reality she knew waited and enjoying his scent, one that was now even stronger -

‘Wait. How is that possible?’

Rey cracked one eye open, the sight of her small cockpit flying through hyperspace immediately coming into view. She looked down to see something black and woolen seemingly draped around her. Something far too big for her, and _definitely_ not something she’d owned before. 

Ben had been here while she slept. The Bond must’ve reactivated, and he hadn’t woken her. 

But he had apparently wrapped her in his cloak, a sign of some sort of tender affection that left Rey momentarily speechless. A token of something that she didn’t deserve, especially given how she’d behaved at the end of their last conversation. 

In a way, she knew Ben understood. He’d been in her shoes before; when he woke up one night to find his uncle standing above him, lightsaber lit with murderous eyes and ready to strike Ben down as he slept. 

She gazes at the coarse black fabric of his cowl, as if expecting it to reveal all its secrets to her. She mentally adds this incident to her a growing collection of similar experiences. Each of them are tender and deeply confounding, muddling what Rey long ago convinced herself to be Ben Solo - no, _Kylo Ren’s_ intentions. These odd moments where it seemed like he cared for her, in a way that went beyond mutual understanding and battlemates. 

The man was always surprising her. 

She thinks back to another such experience, back to the first time their Bond activated after Crait. 

_“Supreme Leader,” she’d sneered at him from where she stood in the hallway of the Resistance base. He’d blinked back at her, as if he was relieved in some way to see her snarl._

_“This is still happening.”_

_“Yes, unfortunately, it appears you’re still stuck with -“_

_“Snoke didn’t do this,” he cut her off, deep in his own thoughts. She’d stared back at him in shock as she realized that no, the vicious former Supreme Leader couldn’t have done this._

_Instead of her heart sinking with the realization, she found herself instead secretly delighted that their Bond wasn’t the doing of the twisted old man._

_“Does anything feel different?” Kylo inquired, taking the slightest step towards her._

_“Nope. You’re still a monster.” she spat, needing to reclaim herself, put her walls back up and protect herself from him, from these feelings he caused. But it was no use._

_“I still only see you.” His eyes were almost mournful, gazing into her own like he was pleading with her for something. Then the connection had severed, leaving Rey to shake her head at the absurdity of Kylo Ren being more concerned with the workings of a Force Bond than the fact that he was still connected to his enemy._

Later, Leia told her he’d always been a deeply curious child, always needing to know how things worked, what made them tick. She’d recounted old memories with a small smile and a rarely seen twinkle in her brown eyes: How she bought Ben a child’s microscope when he was six, and he spent hours looking at everything in the house that he could fit on the slides. Or how he was notorious for taking things apart, something which drove her crazy but delighted Han. She’d come home once to find that he’d completely disassembled Threepio, parts sprawled across the living room floor as Han and Chewie frantically tried to help him put the droid back together before Leia arrived. 

It was another trait she and Ben both shared. The need to make some sense of the world around them by treating it like a puzzle or a challenge to solve. Understanding how things worked to satisfy their curious minds. Its also a protective measure, she knows. Lose yourself in the puzzle and you forget how hungry or lonely you are.

Rey nestled back into his cloak, not willing to leave its familiar warmth quite yet but needing to focus on the current pressing puzzle in front of her. She needs to figure out where she can hole up for a couple of days. Its an instinctual thing, the need of an animal to go to ground. 

In her earlier rage, she’d punched in hyperspace coordinates to take her to Coruscant, thinking it the best place for someone to blend in and disappear. But Coruscant was deep in the Core and very much a First Order planet; going there would be suicide. Even if she was able to touch down her ship without anyone noticing her, it was a world with more surveillance cameras than beings. She’d never evade detection there. Not without some serious help from someone high up. The kind of person that generally doesn’t associate themselves with scavenger girls from Jakku.

She could go back to Ahch-To. To the little green island, and whatever was left of her stone hut. It would be cold and lonely, with no one there but the Porgs and the Caretakers who loathed Rey’s very existence. No, with Master (if you could call him that) Luke gone, there was nothing but memories for her there. Besides, it would be the first place the Resistance looked after Jakku. 

Maybe she could circle back to Takodana, find Maz. She might help her - or turn her right back over to the Resistance, given how fond she was of Leia and Poe. 

Rey pushed the tears, the anger down that threatened to wash over her at the name of her mentor. Leia. A woman she’d trusted with her darkest secret with the belief that she, too, wanted to save Ben. Her son. 

‘Focus, Rey.’ 

She closed her eyes, slowing her breaths in an attempt to calm the waves of emotions like a good Jedi. 

But she was no Jedi, and that feeling of peace seemed further away than ever before. 

Instead, the Bond crackled to life, seemingly responding to her rising emotions. She begrudgingly admits to herself that Ben may have been right about strong emotions triggering the Bond.

But she’s secretly (strangely) happy that the Force is connecting them now. As confusing and enraging as Kylo Ren is, Rey really doesn’t want to be alone right now.

The Lightsider waits as the sounds around her fade and the Bond fully takes hold. Ben suddenly appears before her in a half-sitting, half lying down position. His long legs were splayed out, but his torso is propped up as if he’s sitting on a bed. 

A bed that she may be sitting on the corner of, based on her proximity to him and his slightly raised eyebrow.

Thankfully, the bed appears to be large and the dark lord is currently fully clothed in his usual black garb. There are times when Rey wondered if Kylo stands around shirtless for hours, just waiting for the Bond to activate so he can relish in her discomfort. 

“Rey,” Ben’s voice made her name sound like a goddess’s, and she remembers why it bothered her when he wouldn’t say it. 

“The Bond seems particularly active today. I think you’re right, about emotions triggering it.” She states matter of factly, intending the statement as a peace offering and then kicking herself not starting by thanking him for his cowl.

“If it kept you warm, then no thanks are necessary. Plus, now we know that we can permanently pass objects through the bond.” Always the scientist, she thinks before scowling at the realization that he’d read her mind again. 

“I can give it back,” she offered, moving to unclasp it, but he shakes his head. 

“I have others, keep it.”

_**Besides, it looks good on you.** _

She blinks, not sure if Ben actually said that over the Bond or if she imagined it. ‘Probably the latter.’ 

“Are you okay?” Ben’s asks softly, so gentle that she can’t doubt the sincerity behind it. Where earlier today his face had been teasing, goading, it now reflected concern. Compassion, even. 

Just like Ahch-To, she thinks, and finds herself repressing a sudden shiver despite being toasty-warm. 

“As okay as I can be, for the moment.” She admits. Her voice is firm, but she feels the warm pricks of tears behind her eyes once again. 

He nods, seemingly picking up on the fact that this is not the time to push the issue. “Are you somewhere safe?” He asks instead.

“For now. I guess.” she shrugs. “I disabled all the trackers the Resistance had on the ship, but I’m not sure if I got them all. Besides, I don’t really know where to go, outside of floating through space until my supplies run out. I’m not going back to Jakku, not now, not ever. Even if I did that’s the first place they’d look. They know where Ahch-To is, and there’s nothing for me there anyways. And thanks to your General’s bounty hunters, I’m wanted wherever I go. I’m currently heading to Coruscant, I thought I could disappear there, if I actually make it to the surface.”

The look she gives him is accusatory for only the briefest of seconds before she shifts her eyes down to stare at her well-worn boots. Why did she do that? Kriff, couldn’t she just play nice for three seconds? She knows he has nothing to do with Hux hiring bounty hunters to stalk her down. Hell, Ben didn’t even know about it until Rey told him. And she knows his relationship with the General is still far too unstable for him to order Hux to pull said bounty hunters (a sore subject between the two of them as she’d had to talk him out of it at least three times). 

“But it is still my General’s order, so you’re not wrong.” Ben’s voice was smooth and even. She looked back up at him to see that he’d leaned forward on his bed, putting him closer to her as he read her mind with ease. 

Normally, she’d tell him to get out of her head, but Rey finds it oddly soothing at the moment. It makes it easier when she instinctively lashed out thanks to her very raw state. Besides, he’s only reading the more obvious, loud thoughts at the front of her mind. Not those more subtle, hidden, _dangerous_ whispers made more of feelings and dreams that she keeps safely locked away.

Rey cocks her head to the side, lost in thought and just feeling through the Bond. She sees that Kylo could’ve easily circumvented Poe’s trap while still taking the “bait” and stealing her away to whatever Star Destroyer he skulked around now. Or he could’ve come while she was sleeping, vulnerable, and completely cut off from everyone, and taken her then. 

And their Bond, no, Kylo doesn’t deny that he thought about it. Considered it, even.

But he didn’t. Kylo - Ben - no matter whose persona he wore, he’d never lied to her. And he’d never betrayed her through the Bond. Never used it for his advantage (outside of testing her temper with his incessant teasing).

Somehow, Kylo Ren is now the last person Rey has left. The realization runs through her like a shock, and Rey raises her eyes to Ben’s. His dark eyes are wide, as if he heard her thought too. 

Fast as a blaster bolt, he swings his feet around, over the edge of his invisible bed, so he’s sitting right next to her. 

Close enough to touch.

Suddenly, Rey feels too warm under his cowl.

“Rey,” he paused, as if unsure of his next words. “Do you trust me?”

She sighs, more to calm herself than in response to his question. The truth is that she **does** trust him. He is, somehow, the only person she still trusts, as naive as that may be. Sure, he may be Kylo Ren, her mortal enemy, and he may have his own interests at play, but he’d proven himself to her time and time again.

The fact that she was currently wrapped up in his cowl, still breathing in his scent while perched on the edge of his bed might also be influencing her decisions. Their faces are close enough to touch like this, and his eyes probe hers, searching for something in her. What, she wasn’t sure, but the look he’s giving her makes her heart stutter. 

For a second, she sees him back in the interrogation room on Starkiller Base, hovering over her with a similar look in his eyes.

It challenged and excited her, both then and now.

“Yes,” Rey whispers, finally responding to him. Relief paints Kylo’s face. Rey notices that her lips are suddenly dry. Rey runs her tongue over them, and Kylo’s eyes immediately follow the movement. 

“I can get you safe harbor on Coruscant, if you’re willing to accept it.” 

Rey actually lurches in response. That’s not the response she expected. She half expected him to make the usual offer again, to beg for her to come to him, rule with him (an offer that would admittedly be even harder to refuse this time around). 

“How? I don’t have the right clearance codes, and I’m sure my ship has been broadcasted -“

“I can get you the codes. After all, I am the Supreme Leader. And so far, the Resistance is keeping quiet about this. I don’t think they want the galaxy to know they’ve lost their only Force-user. Although, I doubt it will stay that way for long.” Ben seems almost amused at how little credit she gives his new position.

“They - they have contacts on Coruscant,” Rey whispers, feeling guilty for revealing this information. Guilty, even though they betrayed her.

“I know. But we’ll have you land in a secure area, one far from their eyes - and Hux’s. Once you’re there, I can arrange to have the ship taken care of, and work on finding you another safe location. 

I promise, Rey, I just want to help.”

His eyes are nervous now, and he flexes his jaw as if trying to keep himself from saying more. In a way, it reminds her of his face in the Throne Room, when he’d whispered a plea and held out his hand after extending a very different kind of offer. 

Rey stood, keeping his cowl clutched around her, but needing to pace for a second. She trusted him, but she knows he’s still (technically) her enemy. But the past taught her to never fully trust, a recently reinforced lesson that causes her to always keep a part of herself detached. Rey didn’t allow her trust in people to become stupidity. 

On the other hand, she has nowhere else to turn. Everyone else had failed her. At the very least, Ben probably won’t try to kill her in the short timespan they’d be together. He seemed sincere in his offer, which confuses Rey to no end. 

Why should he offer to help her? After all she’s done, all that’s happened?

_**Search my mind, Rey. I promise you, I won’t harm you, and you’ll be free to leave whenever you want.** _

She’s not worried about him harming her, no. No matter what name he goes by, she knows that he wouldn’t without provocation, and even if he did, she can hold her own. The scar running down his face is proof that she has, and she is stronger now.

‘But will he really let you go?’ the distrusting, broken child in her whispers. Sure, Kylo promised her she could leave whenever she wants, but would he actually follow through? He may not want to hurt her, but there’s a strange possessiveness he carries for her. It is one of those infuriatingly confusing things about him, one which Rey might mistake for some sort of desire if she didn’t know better. 

What are the chances that once Kylo finally has her, he’d lock her away, deep on a ship in the First Order’s fleet, where she’d never be free again. To protect her, he’d argue, but really to protect him from both her and their Bond. Or worse, use her as a weapon, a tool, just like everyone else had.

_**I promise, Rey. I won’t use you. I could never, not like that.** _

An image of Luke standing above his sleeping body at the Academy, lightsaber raised and ready to strike, flashes across their Bond again. And Rey understands why he’s willing to risk so much to help her.

Because he’s been here too. Because he knows her pain. The sting of betrayal and rejection inflicted by the people you call family. 

And maybe because he secretly wishes there’d been someone to help him recover from Luke’s betrayal, without any strings attached. Someone other than Snoke. 

Rey can admit that this wasn’t just about her fears of being bait again. As a scavenger, she’d been alone all her life. She’d always taken care of herself, never allowing herself to rely on others for help, especially after learning about betrayal the hard way early on. In the desert, there are no allies. 

‘But,’ that one knowing inner voice whispers, ‘that was a lonely way to live. It wasn’t even really living at all, was it?’

Is it possible for your subconscious to sound smug?

And now she _is_ alone again, rudderless and drifting. If she rejected Ben now, she knows what sentence she will serve. She might as well go back to Jakku, as she’d be resigning herself to the same life she had there. Alone, always alone. Always sleeping with one eye open because she couldn’t trust anyone to watch her back. 

All this lonely little Scavenger girl had ever wanted was for someone to like her, to care for her, to want her, just her. Not because of her skills, or her powers, or her value as a tool or a weapon, but for _her._

For Rey. A nobody.

‘But not to him.’ The voice is undoubtedly smug. 

Rey ceases her pacing, stopping so she’s standing directly in front of him. Ben responds by looking up at her face. He’s struggling to keep his face impassive, but she can see his eyes and they’re aching with emotion. She can’t tell which emotions, exactly, but they’re not cold, or threatening, or scheming, or anything of the sort. 

No. It looks a hell of a lot like caring, and with that thought, Rey of Jakku makes her decision. 

“Thank you,” is all she says, but he understands its intent, her acceptance. He breathes out suddenly, like he’d been holding it in. 

“I’ll send you the codes and the coordinates for the landing bay,” he responds, neither of them willing to verbally admit to what they’d just agreed to. But his voice drips with relief and she feels that eternal, damning spark of Light inside him flare. 

As the connection between them finally fizzles, Rey swears she feels something like hope from his end of the Bond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, look at that. Kylo's half-hatched "plan" (really, the dude is just making it up as he goes) actually worked! Sorry this was so in Rey's head, but its one of those necessary chapters to set all the pieces in position for the next few chapters. I debated just having a couple chapters of Rey angsting across space before finally taking Kylo up on his offer, but let's face it: that would be boring and TLJ showed us that Rey has a serious weakness when it comes to one Ben Solo/Kylo Ren. 
> 
> Thank you all for the kudos, comments and support. Like, seriously, I was really nervous posting this at all, and all the love I got had me actually walking around with a smile yesterday! And I don't smile. Thus the early update, even if its short, as a thank you to all of you. <3
> 
> And now, a teaser for the next chapter cause I'm evil like that:
> 
> Kylo chuckles, and Rey realized that she’d allowed that thought to roam freely between them. “I’m not a vampire, Rey.”
> 
> “Could’ve fooled me,” she shoots back, thinking of his pale skin, black hair, eyes that she seemed to get lost in, the way he’d almost successfully seduced her to the Dark Side. The way he seems to call to her, like a hunter drawing in his prey.
> 
> “Well then, welcome to my lair,” he purred. The familiar fire roaring in her core sparked, the embers coming back to life.


	3. Arrival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously: The Resistance learns of Rey and Kylo's bond, and decides to use Rey as Supreme Leader bait. Unsurprisingly, Rey's pissed and leaves the Resistance. After realizing that she's officially the Most Wanted Woman in the Galaxy, Rey finds herself taking Kylo Ren up on his offer of safe harbor on Coruscant. Now, she's headed towards Coruscant to meet up with her alleged enemy, armed with new information and Deep Thoughts(tm). But will Our Lady of Repression finally start admitting that she's got more than one reason for trusting Kylo?
> 
> Or: Let's make our space babies burn, y'all.

By the time Rey reaches Coruscant, she’s run out of tears and worked through at least the first five stages of grieving. She’d spent the trip crying, screaming, ranting, rationalizing, and then, desperate for some distraction, she’d found herself scanning through the HoloNews, skimming through the dispatches through the comms system in her small cockpit. But catching up on the events in the Galaxy without the Resistance’s filter or spin left her feeling even more conflicted. 

Rey knew the Resistance didn’t prioritize traditional news sources, claiming them all to be corrupt or in the First Order’s pocket. And sure, under Colonel Dameron, news seemed to trickle in more slowly than when Leia was in control. But Rey had never questioned it, had no reason to question it. The only news that really mattered to her was her next mission, the Force told her about everything else she cared about. 

So she was shocked when the focus of the news was discussing the ongoing impact of Supreme Leader Kylo Ren’s announcement that child slavery was hereby banned under the First Order. That’s right, the First Order was banning child slavery. Complete with a detailed transition process and severe punishments for those who continued.

Yeah, that was… unexpected, to say the least.

More surprising was learning that the new Supreme Leader started relief programs for planets recently affected by the Second Galactic Civil War, even if those planets had been Resistance strongholds taken by the Order by force. That definitely seemed out of character for the regime, even the talking heads on the HoloNet seemed pleasantly surprised by it.

Or that the poll numbers overwhelmingly favored the Order, especially the new Supreme Leader. 

No wonder the Resistance recruits had dried up. The party line was that fear of the Order and attacks on ships delivering would-be recruits had slowed things down, but now Rey realized that there were no recruits. 

The galaxy was choosing its victor, and it was the First Order. 

The Jedi girl had leaned back in her seat with a huff, mind spiraling with all this new information.

Rey wonders what else the Resistance had hidden from her. 

The _Ackbar_ dropped out of hyperspace, the blue-white blur of lightspeed slowing to a halt. Now Rey’s viewport is filled with a large planet, covered in grey with streaks of orange lights glowing up from even here. 

There wasn’t a lick of green that she can see. A desert planet of another kind. 

The comlink crackled to life as Corsucanti Traffic Control hailed her, requesting she transfer her identification and landing codes. With only the slightest moment of hesitation, Rey punched in the necessary sequence to complete her end of the transaction before flicking the switch to transmit. 

‘Here goes nothing,’ she thought, placing all her trust in Kylo Ren. There was no turning back now without raising an alarm, and even if she tried, where would she go? 

She just has to hope that this isn’t a trap of a different making. 

“Light Cruiser X7923, you are cleared for landing.” The young woman exhaled a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. The codes were legitimate, and her faith in Kylo, as tentative as it was, remains intact.

Now she just needs to see what awaits her once she landed. 

As Rey leads the _Ackbar_ closer and closer to the planet’s surface, she begins to see the tall twisted metal making up the endless towers of Coruscant. The whole planet hums with activity, and through the Force, she senses the billions of lifeforms making their way through their lives.

One such lifeform burns especially bright, seemingly calling her. It’s jet black but burns with a surprising intensity, with a small but fierce flame of light still flickering inside. The Bond between Rey and her Bondmate shimmered and sang as it always did when they were close, leading her to him.

She gently sets the _Ackbar_ down onto a private landing pad adjoined to two others, all with walkways leading to one of the taller, chrome-plated spires in this sector. The building is a work of architectural artistry, with two planes of curved steel running up it, forming a criss-cross at the top. 

Rey notices a familiar _Upsilon_ -class shuttle sitting on one of the adjacent landing pads. Her heart skips a beat, a conditioned response to the sight of it.

A tall, black figure walked out of the shadows and towards the _Ackbar_ as Rey lowers the ramp. She sees that he’s alone, and she breathes out another sigh of relief.

“Rey,” Kylo said evenly as she walked down the ramp. Once she reached him, she didn’t know what to say, or do. Kneel? No, she wasn’t ever going to give him that satisfaction. Shake his hand? They’d killed together, fought together, and were bounded by the Force, for kriff’s sake. That just seemed ridiculous. 

The Supreme Leader stared back at her, also apparently unsure of what to do. A sudden breeze causes his dark curls to shift around him, but his hair still somehow looked perfectly coiffed. His eyes churn with a mix of shock, wariness, and something that looked suspiciously like happiness as they roved over her, as if scanning her.

‘Good to know both of our trust issues remain unresolved,’ Rey can’t help but quip to herself. 

“The codes worked,” Rey finally says, needing to do something to break this silence between them. 

“Of course they did,” he half-smirks back at her. “I told you I’d help you, didn’t I?”

Rey only nods, now staring intensely at the ground. Gazing into his eyes may tell her his emotions, but it did things to her insides that she really shouldn’t allow, given the situation. “Thank you,” she says softly. 

Ben doesn’t respond. Instead, he gestured with his gloved hand towards the walkway back to the building, as if inviting her inside. “Ladies first,” he said, and she could tell he was smirking again. One brief look confirmed it, and Rey can’t help but think how similar it is to Leia’s. 

She batted that thought away before he could pick up on it. No reason to ruin the uneasy peace this early on. Rey began walking, and Kylo quickly fell in step with her, side by side. The door opened for him as they approached, seemingly triggered by his presence - or no, he used the Force, Rey realized as she stepped in. 

The apartment is minimalistic, yet not Spartan in its decor. Much of the area was done in varying shades of grey, all clean lines and hard edges. The floors are an expensive looking dark hardwood, polished to the point that she can see her disheveled reflection in them. There’s a few pops of artwork on the walls, and the occasional metal sculpture dots the hallways. It takes Rey off guard, this look of a home. She’d expected an all black cave, given that she’d never seen him in anything else. 

Kylo chuckles, and Rey realized that she’d allowed that thought to roam freely between them. “I’m not a vampire, Rey.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” she shoots back, thinking of his pale skin, black hair, eyes that she seemed to get lost in, the way he’d almost successfully seduced her to the Dark Side. The way he seems to call to her, like a hunter drawing in his prey.

“Well then, welcome to my lair,” he purred. The familiar fire roaring in her core sparked, the embers coming back to life. 

“Where are your guards?” she asked, looking around. The apartment is far too silent and she desperately needs to change the subject.

_**Nervous that I’ll bite?** _

“There’s a small contingent of Stormtroopers that stay on the first level while I’m here. I’ve requested they remain there and not come to the second or third floors outside of certain emergency circumstances.” He says out loud, before she could react.

“Aren’t you the Supreme Leader? Shouldn’t you be surrounded by your own personal guards?” Genuine confusion radiates from her through their Bond. 

‘How could they leave their Supreme Leader unprotected?’ Leia always had at least one guard with her at all times, Rey knew, and Snoke had the six Praetorians. 

“Not here. No one knows this is my property, or that I’m here. Nor do I really need a guard, I’m not like Snoke.” The disgust on Ben’s face at the mention of his former Master is apparent. Privately, Kylo hypothesized that Snoke was nowhere near as powerful with the Force as he; just skilled at manipulation. Something which was proven true when he killed the deformed old creature with his grandfather’s lightsaber. 

“You… trust these Troopers?” Rey asks tentatively, needing to know. Finn told her many times that all stormtroopers were programmed to report everything to their superiors, including General Hux. Nothing was a secret in their ranks.

“I do. I’d always warned Hux that stealing children away and trying to program them like droids would backfire. Your… _friend_ proved me right.”

In Rey’s mind she sees the brief flash of a village in the desert on fire, screams coming from women, children. Bodies of stormtroopers and civilians on the ground, red blaster bolts streaking through. One stormtrooper stood as if frozen, a bloody handprint on his helmet. He’s staring ahead like a man seeing color for the first time.

A memory, she thinks. Not hers.

“Luckily, the weakness in their programming is working to my advantage.”

“I take it they’re not all fans of Hux?” she tries to sound nonchalant as she assesses her surroundings, looking for potential surveillance. She finds none. 

Kylo chuckles in response, a surprisingly pleasant sound. “Hardly. And I’ve been working to win them over to my side. The ones here are ones I’ve converted.”

She doesn’t say anything in response, she knows its better for both of them if she doesn’t. Part of her wants to know what he means by the weakness in their programming. Prying, however, seems like a good way to violate the temporary peace between them.

Besides, for a second, she couldn’t help but think of Finn, her first friend. Or, who she thought was a friend. 

_“Traitor!”_ she remembered Kylo screaming in a dark forest on a manmade weapon-planet, and at this moment, she can’t help but agree. 

===================

After an uneventful and oddly polite dinner, Kylo shows Rey to her chambers in the apartment before tactically retreating to his for the night. Part of him wants to soak up every moment now that she’s here; but the larger part of him is still leery with this whole thing. He has too many scars on his body and psyche from others betraying him. 

Besides, the uneasy truce between them keeps him from acting like a total idiot around her.

At least their annoying Bond was happy. It practically sang now, content with their sudden closeness. The scientist in Kylo wants to experiment, to see how much it will grow and how much he can control it now that they’re merely rooms apart.

He flopped rather gracelessly onto his bed, picking up his HoloPad to skim through his comms and reports. After all, he is still Supreme Leader, and he has work to do.

Such as what to do with the paltry Resistance, or what remains of it. Kylo knew Organa lay in a coma (a subject he’d very much like to not explore at the moment, _thank you_ ); and that Poe Dameron and Kaydel Connix now ran the show. So far, their leadership was far from impressive. No real battles, no successful raids. They were also losing the propaganda war that Kylo’s First Knight launched. The Resistance’s intelligence operations weren’t faring much better: Kylo’s people uncovered their moles in the First Order, giving them either bad information, if not converting them into double agents.

And then those idealistic fools drove away their only Jedi, and Kylo’s only weakness. Even better, she fled to him for safe harbor.

At this point, Kylo isn’t sure whether he should kill Dameron or send him a fruit basket. Getting Rey to come to him has been almost too easy, too convenient. The Dark Lord briefly entertains the temptation to try to manipulate the Bond for not just science, but to make sure that this wasn’t some sort of elaborate trap. 

But Kylo knows Rey’s no actress, the woman wears her heart on her face. If this is a trap, she’s an innocent player in all of this. He felt her genuine heartbreak at their betrayal through the Bond the other day. Her anger, her ... darkness.

If Kylo’s being honest with himself, things are moving as they always have between the Darksider and the alleged Jedi. When it came to Rey, everything moved at lightspeed, meaning Kylo should enjoy the delicate peace between them until he failed to live up to her impossible expectations yet again.

Luckily, Kylo’s used to never being good enough for those around him. No one, not even Rey, ever wanted all of him, just the shiny, pretty pieces that serve their needs best. It’s a tale old as time and one he’s accepted.

For now.

Perhaps, he thinks while absent-mindedly spinning his HoloPad in the air with the Force; perhaps he should hope more on his Scavenger girl surrendering her current throne as the Queen of Denial. Rey’s abandonment issues and massive distrust in everyone made it easy for him to show her the truth of Dameron’s machinations. 

(Based on his prior experiences with Rey, it also meant that he’d effectively invited a rathtar into his lair. Now all he can do is hope it wasn’t in the mood for Supreme Leader.)

He frowns, pausing on a report from his aforementioned First Knight. It was nothing truly terrible, but a welcome distraction from his thoughts. Kylo took the time to respond. He always did for Kittara Ren. She was the last Knight of Ren standing other than he, and the one he’d always been closest to. She was completely loyal to him, and he was grateful for her return to the Order after his ascension to the throne.

Kylo spent the next hour working through his comms. Most didn’t require any response from him; Organa taught him from an early age that delegating is key to leading. While Kylo still mistrusted most of the officers around him, he used their eagerness to please and parry favor to his advantage. Besides, Kittara remained on the Finalizer, serving as his eyes and ears in his absence. Kittara’s true Force talents had lain with strategy and manipulation. The woman could give Organa a run for her money with her talents, and Kylo knew she’d continue to pull the puppet strings while he was away.

_Anger._

_Hate._

_Betrayal._

_Loss._

These feelings are such the status quo for him that for a second, Kylo doesn’t register that these aren’t his emotions. In fact, he doesn’t react at all until it dawns that he’s feeling this through the Bond.

**_Rey._ **

Kylo is off his bed in an instant. He doesn’t even process that his legs are taking him to Rey’s chambers until he arrives at her door. It’s shut, of course, not that a closed door will really stop him (plus, he can open any door in the apartment), and he swears he can hear a muffled sniffle from inside.

He raises to hand to knock, but pauses.

‘What the Hell am I doing?’ 

This wasn’t his plan, or part of it (not that he really had much of one). He’s supposed to be her dark knight who offers her protection, nothing more while slowly bringing her further towards the dark side. At least, that’s what he’s been telling himself. Consoling her during these moments of loneliness, of grief, will do nothing to help his cause.

Further, he continues to rationalize with himself, Rey herself has made it quite clear that she sees him as a means to an end. She made her decision quite clear in the throne room when she so rejected him and shattered his grandfather’s kriffing lightsaber. Just because she allows him to comfort her in the dead of night, when nightmares lash at her subconscious, does not mean she won’t reject him now. 

And why would he ever subject himself to that again?

No, Kylo needs to continue to follow the plan, to be cold, calculating. His purses his lips into a grimace, spinning away from the door before his resolve breaks.

The sound of a broken sob makes its way through the barrier separating them, stopping his retreat.

On the other hand, he knew he wouldn’t be able to resist once he had her here. He so badly needs her, needs to be the one she leans on, relies on. It’s an ache in his soul, and he’d surrendered the moment he offered her safe harbor.

Deep down, Kylo also wants to make it right for her as no one did for him. He knows what she needs, yearns for in this moment. He remembers it from his worthless uncle’s betrayal, and the resulting slaughter at the Academy. Remembers how he secretly cried for him, for them. How he felt so weak as a twenty-three year old wishing nothing more for a mother’s caring caress. Feeling so alone, so _lost_. Snoke had immediately separated him from his Knights, wanting them all to suffer in the darkness alone. Weaken their bonds as students and friends, especially when it came to Kylo Ren.

‘Maybe,’ he tells himself, ‘maybe this will actually help my plan. Earn her trust a little faster. She can’t push me away, I’m the only one she has left and she knows it. This will prove it to her, me going to her now.’

‘Keep telling yourself that,’ that dark voice scoffs back. But it too surrenders, knowing Kylo’s mind is made up.

Kylo reaches for the access pad, and then pauses again. ‘Wait, should I knock? Or just open the door and walk in?’

He considers for a moment, and then decides to go with knocking. He tentatively raps at her door, almost too softly, he thinks with a cringe.

He’s still really not great at this human interaction thing, he sighs inwardly. He should really take Kittara up on those lessons. What did she call it again? Something about not being an asshole 101. 

With a whoosh, the door slides open, revealing a red-faced and tear streaked Rey and her... slightly trashed chambers. 

Okay, _slightly trashed_ is an understatement. Even Kylo’s impressed by the level of chaos she’s inflicted without a lightsaber. Pillows are strewn about everywhere as if they were flung with anger. A few have been ripped open, scattering feathers everywhere. Old, paper texts, worth their weight in kyber crystals are strewn about. One particularly sad looking one is spread open on the ground as if it was drop-kicked. Next to the books are the fragments of what looked like a delicate bracelet, broken glass and pieces of some sort of hardware that has been smashed to pieces.

A honing beacon, Kylo realizes. In his mind’s eye, he sees her sitting crosslegged on the carpeted floor, opening up the same text she later dropkicked across the room. As she turns the page, the honing beacon slips out from its hiding place. A plant, in case he’d fallen for their honeypot and gotten away with her. Kylo sees the flash of realization, a new betrayal slapping her in the face, sending her into a spiral of rage. He can swear her eyes flash gold. 

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you.” Rey stammered, and with that, all of Kylo’s wicked plots scattered. Her voice is so heavily with heartbreak, betrayal, hurt, abandonment and oh, what he would give to kiss it all away.

“I promise, I’ll clean this up, I’m sorry, I just -“

“Rey,” he stopped her, placing a bare-skinned hand on her freckled shoulder. He could swear she curves into it, not away. “Don’t apologize, Rey.” He pushes understanding and compassion across their Bond towards her, unable to put the emotions into words.

Rey sighs, either in relief or resignation, but their Bond glows with warmth, signaling her true feelings. She steps aside, wordlessly inviting him into her chambers.

“I feel so stupid,” she whispers, another tear trickling down her heart-shaped face. “I trusted them. I trusted all of them. I was a fool. I gave up-“ her voice cracked, giving out at the very moment Kylo most wanted it to go on. 

_Everything. Everything I’ve always wanted. For them._ She whispers across the Bond, and there’s a rush of something warm and good and glowing in the deepest parts of him, something so foreign, something he hasn’t felt in so long. He fights the sudden strange urge to do some awkward celebratory move and the less strange urge to kiss her, keeping his focus on the broken girl in front of him.

“Rey, I am so sorry. You shouldn’t have to go through this.”

Her hand is on his chest now, but not pushing him away. No, the small thing is curling into the fabric of his tunic as if she fears he’ll bolt at any second, abandoning her too. She is openly crying now, his broken, betrayed desert girl.

“I thought... I thought I mattered to them. That I wasn’t just a resource. A weapon. I thought they could be.. I thought they cared and they lied to me, Ben. They never cared. And they used something so private... I never told them. I only told Leia, I trusted-“

“Shhh,” Kylo was now rubbing his hand down her back as she hiccuped, both of them caught in a half-embrace. 

Maybe he doesn’t need those interaction lessons from Kittara after all.

“Why are you helping me?” She whispered, her voice so small and lost. Kylo vowed to make Poe Dameron and the Traitor’s deaths excruciatingly slow as payback. 

“Because I’ve been where you are, Rey. I know how it feels to be abandoned and betrayed.” 

Her hazel eyes flash and he knows she’s remembering the night Luke tried to murder him in his sleep. She nods, but confusion continues to shroud her eyes.

“But why are you helping me?” She presses, somehow stepping closer to him, fingers curling even tighter into his shirt. “You said it yourself, I’m no one. Nothing.”

Kylo added his past self to his People He Needs to Punish list, loathing himself for bungling that moment so terribly. Part of him wants nothing more than to drive his lightsaber into the wall at his failure, but he has to hold on to his tenuous control here. She needs him to, and he won’t let her down. 

**_You forgot the most important part of that, Rey. But not to me. You’re not nothing to me._ **

‘You’re everything to me,’ his mind finishes, and Kylo’s fist clenches, a visible response to him literally grabbing that and keeping it from floating across the Bond. 

No, she did not need to know that. At least not right now.

What Kylo didn’t expect was Rey moving even closer to him, wrapping her toned arms around his waist while sobbing into his sternum. Her thoughts are all over the place, pouring over and into their Bond, but so jumbled he can hardly make sense of them. The same emotions from earlier still run wild, framed in regret and something else like hope. Then one thought makes itself painfully clear and it causes that warm glowing feeling inside him again: she is very, very glad he is here. 

The spark of trust inside of him grows.

It’s not the only one.

And so the Dark Knight, the Supreme Leader of the First Order, wraps his arms around the Last Jedi and holds her as she mourns, too large hands rubbing soothing circles on her back.

It feels surreal and awkward and strange and oh so right.

—————————

Rey slowly unwinds her frame from Kylo’s after her tears subside. She doesn’t know why she misses his warmth so much, but she’s soaked through his shirt with her tears and she’s sure his arms must be tiring.

“I’m sorry.” She gestures to his shirt.

“Don’t be.”

**_I’m glad I was here for you._ **

She can’t help but crack a small smile at the words he couldn’t quite say out loud. Something felt different between them, and it wasn’t just their Bond, purring with satisfaction.

“They gave you a homing beacon?” She is secretly welcome at his abrupt subject change. 

“Not gave. I found it tucked into my texts. It looks just like the same one Leia gave me when i went to A-ahh - Luke, but it’s not.” 

Kylo raised a black eyebrow at her obvious attempt to hide the location of where Skywalker his for all those years. Normally, he’d push it, but he knows he’s made hard fought gains with her tonight and isn’t stupid enough to throw it all away already.

He’s learning.

“But this isn’t the same,” he states instead. 

“No. This is... I’m afraid they’re tracking me,” she admits and cringes, as if she expects him to lash out at her.

Which, ironically, makes him want to lash out at her but more himself because he knows he deserves such a reaction. 

‘Breathe. Calm. Don’t scare her away now, dammit,’ he tells himself, working his jaw over itself. 

“Good,” he manages to say darkly.

“What?” Rey seems taken aback by his response, her eyes narrowing as if trying to glare out his true intentions. “What do you mean, ‘good’?!? The Resistance could be on their way right now and -“

“They’re not, Rey. Not even Poe Dameron is stupid enough to come barreling onto Coruscant, guns blazing.”

She opens her mouth to argue, either to defend Poe or explain that yes, he is that stupid but then wisely shuts it.

“And if even if he is, he won’t get to you. Not with me here. I promised you safe harbor. You’re only leaving if you want to.” He resists the urge to say ‘when he lets her,’ but he can practically hear Kittara screaming at him to shut the fuck up and not let his issues with sharing fuck this moment up. Letting Rey think it was her choice to leave was tactical, smart (and probably the truth, given their history, but he wasn’t ready to admit that to himself).

Her response was worth it: an odd, relieved but warm smile that reflected in her hazel eyes, erasing any lingering traces of gold-flaked darkness. 

Kylo knows this strange peace won’t last forever; if they continue on too much longer tonight one of them will surely step on one of the many emotional landmines buried between them.

“We can talk more in the morning. Right now, we should both get some rest.” He steps back, moving towards her chamber door. He swears she looks almost disappointed for a second.

“Right, yes.” Rey agrees, if only to say something. She is tired, physically and emotionally. Her breakdown took away the adrenaline she’d been running on, and she hasn’t truly slept in days. Even her bones are suddenly tired, and Rey half-wonders if Kylo is using the Force to sedate her.

“Good night,” Kylo’s voice is hushed and gravelly as he withdraws through the door. He can feel his ears flushing red and is glad for the hair that hides them. This weird truce between them makes them both feel awkward, fumbling and unsure. But he can’t help but smile as she called ‘night!’ after him. 

It stays there all the way back to his chambers.

===================

Late that night, Rey awakens for a second. She feels Ben’s strong body wrapped around hers, their Bond bringing him to her in the night, and she curls towards his warmth. Here, late at night, she admits to herself that _here_ is the only place she now feels safe enough to sleep. Here, tucked up against him with his right arm draped over her waist, hand tucked around her stomach and keeping her close, his breath hot on her neck. 

As the dreamworld calls her back into its blissful ignorance, Rey wonders when he started to feel like home. 

===================

Kylo smiles as he senses her go back to sleep, pulling her slender body closer to his. Here, in these moments, her thoughts truly unguarded. Its the only time she truly lets him in, and he cherishes these little moments in the dark where they’re honest with themselves, each other. 

Even when they’re only a few rooms apart, she’d called to him in her sleep, bringing him to her through their Bond. Lets him press her close now, protect her and possess her in a way more intimate than Kylo ever could’ve imagined. 

At night, her monster keeps her nightmares at bay.

At night, his beacon keeps his demons sated and chained.

She’s breathing slow and steady breaths, succumbing to sleep again. It’s only now that he allows himself to press his lips to her hair. It smells like some sort of exotic flowers and sunshine, stray strands tickling his face in this position. Kylo lays a chaste kiss on the Jedi’s scalp, gentle enough not to wake her. He closes his eyes and breathes in her scent, letting himself drift towards slumber.

In these moments, Kylo can pretend that he’s enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that was angsty. Poor space babies. Our Lady of Repression is really trying to keep all those annoying emotions tamped down. And poor, poor Kylo. Why must I make you burn, bb?
> 
> I really wanted to capture the vulnerability both of them feel, and also get out there that Kylo's effective and surprisingly freedom-friendly leadership is really fucking things up for the Resistance to help show their desperation. Also, cause I feel like Kylo's the kind of guy that'll remember his gramps and his lady came from slavery and want to actually fix some of these injustices. Wonder how Hux feels about all this? 
> 
> Plus, the theme of Ben Solo never being enough/always being the "monster" in TLJ really stuck with me, and I really wanted to give him a moment where he gets to feel like he's enough for Rey. 
> 
> Anyways, hope y'all liked this installment, and thanks for reading! Bait will update every Sunday, with the occasional surprise midweek update when time permits. I've got the whole story outlined, and I'm committed to wrapping this up by late June. So stay tuned for more angst next Sunday, with a side of Kylo seriously thirsting for Rey. Oh, and an old friend reappears, because duh, I gotta pay my fanservice. In the meantime, thank you to everyone for the kudos, bookmarks, comments, and subscribes! You guys keep me writing and going, and I'm trying to answer every comment that y'all leave. You're awesome. Yes, you. And you.


	4. Sweet Buns and Old Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously on Safe Harbor: After being betrayed by the Resistance, Rey takes up Kylo Ren's offer of safe harbor, joining him at his swanky penthouse on Coruscant. It's awkward, but Kylo realizes how broken his Bondmate is by the Resistance's actions, and the pair share a tender moment. Now, it's the morning after Rey's breakdown, and as always, morning brings some hard truths: what are they doing? Why can Kylo hear her thoughts but not vice-versa? What happens next? Seriously, what are these kids doing? Does Kylo even have a plan? 
> 
> Of course he doesn't, but you know what they say - fake it till ya make it. 
> 
> Plus, Kylo just got an interesting delivery from an old fan favorite, and he shares it with Rey. Wonder who it could be?

Rey wakes in a cloud of softness and warmth, surrounded by pillows and a fluffy white duvet that she’d cocooned herself into. Her chambers are quiet, still, with no sounds of troops walking through the hallways or hums of shield generators like she was used to. The silence - the _luxury_ \- are so unfamiliar to the former Scavenger that she almost jumps out of bed at first, reaching for her staff with the Force before she can register where she is.

She looks around the room with wild eyes and wilder hair, until her mind finally catches up and reminds her of the past few days’ events. 

The Resistance’s betrayal.

Fleeing to keep herself safe. 

Going to Kylo for safe harbor, proving that irony is alive and well in the universe.

Coruscant.

Her breakdown last night.

This last memory brings a particularly savage twist to her gut. Not only from the memory of the pain; but also of how… comforting Kylo had been. It was like being back on Ahch-To again, before the _Supremacy_ and Rey’s decision to reject his proposal, choosing the Resistance over him. 

‘Some great decision that was,’ the darkness inside of her hissed. Annoyingly, the rest of her voices agreed with it (to varying degrees, depending on their individuals levels of paranoia and distrust).

Finding Kylo comforting makes sense, she tells herself. After all, if anyone else understands betrayal and abandonment, it’s Ben. Hell, its almost like the Force got some sick pleasure out of emotionally torturing its instruments, and right now, she and Ben were the only playthings it has.

Fabulous. 

Her stomach grumbles, cutting through her reverie. It’d become spoiled since she left Jakku, and now insisted on eating meals regularly. According to her belly, she’s now gone without food for longer than it deems acceptable. 

Ben is already awake, Rey can sense his energy through the Force: a tangled mass of anger, hyperawareness, mistrust, concern, and… something else. Something calming that she only sensed when they were alone or physically close to each other. There’s a deeper torrent of emotions running just under the surface of his usual ones, like an underground river. One Rey doesn’t dare stick a toe into. 

She wonders how long he’d been awake. This triggers another memory from last night: how she found him wrapped around her when she’d briefly woken up from her slumber. She knows its not the first time the Bond connected them during sleep; it certainly wasn’t the first time she’d awakened in his arms. 

She imagines Kylo must be allowing their nocturnal connections unconsciously; he’d never allow himself to be so vulnerable when awake. 

Her stomach growls again, more urgently this time. “Fine,” she tells it out loud, stalking into the connected ‘Fresher unit to prepare herself for the day. She was not traipsing out there in her sleeping shorts and shirt, nighttime cuddles be damned. 

Rey showers, brushes her teeth and washes her face with military precision; not willing to waste a drop of water - even when it’s the First Order’s. With a towel wrapped around her lithe body, she walks over to the large wooden wardrobe in her chambers. Ben mentioned yesterday that he’d ordered some pieces of clothing for her so she could blend in more easily; wearing her well-worn gray Jedi-like tunic and ripped leggings were certainly functional, but they didn’t allow her to fit in most places. 

Rey tentatively opens the wardrobe’s doors, hoping Ben didn’t expect her to wear a dress. She’s pleasantly surprised to find a few articles of clothing hanging, mostly in gray or white, and only one of which was a dress. The fabrics were certainly finer and softer than anything she’d ever worn before, and she couldn’t help but run her fingers over the shimmersilk of the pewter dress in front of her. 

She can’t help but imagine what kind of disguise Kylo thought she’d need _this_ for. 

The lightsider settles on a pair of ivory leggings: utilitarian, but also comfortingly familiar. For a top, she finds a flowing, blue-grey top made of two pieces of fabric in the front, criss-crossing at the top where it was held into place with a thin, golden band that hung around her neck. It was the same in the back, except it exposed just a sliver of her backbone, just above the top of her leggings. The top had no sleeves, leaving her strong shoulders and arms exposed, but the sides were sewn together to give her some modesty. She could easily conceal a blaster (or a saber) under the shirt, and the give of the fabric allowed her to move easily. 

She pairs the top with a light gray bralette to wear underneath, one made of lace and also in the same halter style. Rey can’t help but blush when thinking about Ben choosing out undergarments for her, then remembers with relief that he’d mentioned tasking a highly trusted assistant to buy the items. 

Whoever that assistant is had chosen wisely, Rey notes. She should let Kylo know so he can pass along her thanks. 

Letting her chestnut locks stay down and wet to air dry, Rey emerges from her bedchamber and pads down the hall to the kitchen area. The kitchen’s decor reflected its owner well: black tiles and countertops, with clean, shiny steel appliances that gleam as if freshly polished. The smell of fresh caf and sweetbreads makes her salivate, and she wonders if the Supreme Leader of the kriffing First Order had cooked her breakfast?

“No, but the Supreme Leader’s droid did,” Kylo’s deep baritone came from where he sat at a high square table on the other side of the kitchen. He’s facing the hallway Rey came from, as if waiting for her, sipping on a mug of still-steaming caf. There’s two HoloPads in laying front of him, and he’s holding another in his hand.

“Reading my mind again?” Rey asks, arching an eyebrow. She’d be angrier with him if the sweetbreads on the counter didn’t look so tantalizing. One is a spiral shape coated with a white, sugary smelling syrup; the other being a bright pink confection that smelled like an exotic fruit. 

“You were broadcasting your thoughts again, you can’t blame me for listening when you do that.” His voice is slightly gruffer, but there’s his usual small smirk playing on his lips. He watches her pile her plate with pastries before pouring herself a mug of caf, dumping an obscene amount of sweet cream into it. 

“Sit,” he says, pushing the chair in front of him out with the Force before she can respond. Rey slides into it, despite her desire to continue admonishing him for listening to her thoughts. She knows she’s not very good at shielding her mind; she didn’t have to be on base. Only Leia was Force-Sensitive, and so Rey only kept her tenuous mental shields up when around the General.

Rey bit into the spiral bun with the ferocity of a starved Loth-cat and then actually moans at the taste. It’s heavenly sweet, with a spice that reminds her of the way Ben smells, the bread itself light and fluffy. Sinful, really, and it’s all Rey can do to keep herself from cramming the whole thing in her mouth at once. 

Ben’s eyes darken at the noise, and for a moment, Rey feels something spike through his Force signature. His long, gloved fingers clench around his mug as if restraining himself, and then, with a deep breath, he’s back to his normal, impassive self. 

“Alderaanian sweet buns,” he explains. “From my mother’s home world. I thought you might like them.”

Rey just nods. She picks up another one, examining it, still chewing on the remnants of the first. She swallows. “The spiral shape- it reminds me of something.”

Ben chuckles, a rumbling, bass noise that wakes Rey’s body up faster than caf ever could. 

“My mother’s hair, no doubt. It’s on some of the Resistance recruitment materials that show her when she was younger, back in the early days of the Rebel Alliance.” 

Rey nodded, recalling the holos of the General’s younger self: a beauty clad in white, with her hair wrapped around the sides of her head in two thick, swirling buns and a blaster in her hand.

“Some Alderaanians still make these buns on her name day in her honor. Even after the truth about her parentage came out.” There’s surprisingly little darkness in his tone; not like how he normally sounded when he talked about his parents. Rey wonders if Ben requested they be made today to honor Leia in some way, a thought she kept carefully shielded from him. 

“They’re delicious,” she says instead, her voice softer than intended. 

Kylo looks at her again, his eyes almost sparkling with some deep emotion, the raging torrent threatening to break through to the surface. It was the same look he’d given her in Ahch-To when their hands met; and on the elevator of the _Supremacy_ ; and again in the throne room after they’d killed Snoke. This look, smoldering and intense, both frightens and excites Rey, making her wish she wasn’t just some Force-sensitive scavenger girl from Jakku.

“Try the muju cakes,” Ben prods, his voice softer now too. He uses the Force to nudge the bright pink pastry towards her, and she cheekily Force-lifts it off the plate and into her hand. 

“Showing off?” He grins, and Maker, Rey liked making the Darksider smile. She gets the sense there has’t been much reason for Kylo Ren to smile for a long time, and the Jedi girl makes a mental note to coax more out of him. 

“Maybe,” she smirks back, biting into the muju cake. It’s denser and heavier than the sweet bun, but soaked through with a sticky-sweet muju berry syrup. It’s another entirely new taste for Rey, and she moans again appreciatively. 

**_She’s going to kill me if she keeps doing that._ **

It’s apparent that Ben didn’t mean to let that thought slip across their Bond, and so Rey resists the urge to raise her eyebrow at him. Instead, she gestures at the HoloPads scattered across his side of the table. 

“Busy morning?”

“Isn’t it always when you have a galaxy to run?” He made no moves to hide the screens, a deliberate sign of trust. 

Or perhaps a test. 

“Don’t Supreme Leaders get lackeys do handle all that for them? I thought you just sat on a throne and ordered people around now.”

The alleged Jedi Killer shot her another smile, and Rey mentally ticks a scratch, a tally into the walls of her brain. Something new for her to keep count of. 

“Snoke may have been a big fan of the hands off approach, but I am not. Besides, if you really want to do something right -“

“- Do it yourself.” Rey chimes in, familiar with Leia’s favorite phrase. This time, she did raise her eyebrow at him, although Ben brushed it off, refusing to rise to the bait. 

“I’m still securing myself as Supreme Leader, and not all of my choices have been popular. I have people I trust, but to varying degrees.” 

Rey nods, waiting for him to continue. It was as she’d suspected. Prior to Leia’s coma, their (no, the _Resistance’s_ ) intelligence indicated that many in the First Order officers’ ranks were incredibly wary of Kylo Ren, if not plotting to usurp him. 

“I’ve won over some of them, but not all. The rabid devotees of Snoke’s vision, the zealots, they still pose a danger.” 

_**To us.**_ Ben answers her unspoken question, a bit of hardness creeping back into his voice.

Rey groans. “Am I that bad at shielding my thoughts?” 

“To me? Yes. Not that I’m complaining, but I’m honestly not trying to listen. You just… You think so openly. So _loudly_. I don’t know if its our Bond or just you.”

“If its the Bond, why can’t I hear your thoughts?” she frowns. She feels almost _jealous_ that he can hear her mind so well and yet his was so silent, his thoughts protected by his impenetrable mental walls.

“My shields are much stronger. They had to be.” The last part Kylo says softly, a pained look in his eyes. Rey knows he isn’t just talking about Snoke, but about Luke also. How his thoughts and feelings had been used against him for so long by both of his mentors. 

“I could teach you, if you’d like,” Ben offers, his voice light and airy but Rey got the sense it was anything but. His brown eyes lock onto hers, cautious and wary from all of her previous rejections.

“Don’t you have to go back to running the Galaxy?” Rey asks, honestly not meaning to impose on him any more than she already has. Last thing she wants to do is jeopardize his position, his _security_ for her. 

Kylo pauses, reading her face and her feelings. “No, I can handle things from here,” he says after a beat, taking a sip of his caf. “I’m also using my absence to try to flush out a few of the more… vigorous dissenters.” 

Rey decides against prying any further. 

“Besides, you can’t go underground while yelling your thoughts at every Force-sensitive around you. You’ll be caught faster than lightspeed.” He smirks, and Rey retaliates by tossing the half-eaten muja cake she’s holding at his head. He dodges swiftly, his smirk only growing. 

“Fine,” Rey sighs with mock annoyance. “But, light side tactics only. Don’t think this is your chance to make me into your Dark apprentice or something.”

Ben opens his mouth like he’s about to object, or argue, or something, and then snaps it shut, deciding against whatever instinctual response she provoked. “Deal.” With that, he picks the HoloPad closest to him back up, returning to his morning work.

Rey takes a long sip of caf, eyeing him suspiciously from across the table, his easy surrender leaving her wholly unconvinced. 

=======================

Kylo Ren’s second in command is out to kill him.

The Supreme Leader is sure of this now. It was bad enough when Rey sauntered into the kitchen this morning wearing a gauzy grey halter top that showed off more of her tanned, freckled skin than he’d ever seen. Exposing the dip of the muscles in her slender shoulders, the rigid line of her collarbone (which he immediately started thinking about kissing along). Then he’d realized the damn thing was held on by a golden collar around her neck and he’d had to start mentally counting in Alderaanian to stay calm. 

After all, the whole point of bringing Rey here was not to pounce on her and send her running. 

At least, not _yet._

He’d been able to calm down and converse with Rey, thankfully, although kicking himself for almost losing what little control he had (over her _collarbones_ for kriff’s sake). And then, after she’d actually agreed to let him teach her how to erect mental shields, he’d decided they should move this to his training room, allowing him to show off a little more of his apartment and maybe not have a table separating them. 

Of course, he’d been ever the polite Dark prince and let her walk first down the narrow hallway that connected the kitchen to the stairs, meaning her small back was to him. That was when he saw it and knew his Counsel was trying to kill him. A small triangle of tanned skin stretched over the slender vertebrae of Rey’s lower back, just above where her leggings ended and exposed by a small gap in the periwinkle fabric making up the back of Rey’s shirt. The bare patch of skin calls to him, teasing him, begging for his lips. He could start by kissing her there and then moving up her spine like he’d dreamed about and _dammit_ , now there was no amount of counting that could focus his thoughts.

Kittara Ren is most definitely trying to kill him. It’s the only logical solution. Kylo should’ve known better than to ask her, her of all people, to buy clothes for Rey. Because of course she’d take the opportunity to do things like this to test his very fragile sanity.

He no longer regrets assigning Kittara to review Hux’s thirty-page analysis on inter-ship communication systems. 

“Ben?” Rey turns, cocking her head to one side and giving him a quizzical look. There’s no alarm in her hazel eyes, although he thinks he sees a hint of wariness. “Is everything ok? You’re breathing awfully heavy all of the sudden.”

He feels her poking at his mental shields, and he pours all he can into reinforcing them. He can only hope that she’s naïve enough to misread his emotions for something far less prurient. Kylo curtly nods and pushes ahead of her, moving carefully so that he doesn’t accidentally brush up against any part of her. 

“Follow me,” he says as neutrally as possible, and she does, thankfully letting the matter drop. 

Kylo leads her down the black iron staircase, spiraling between the main living floor and the lower floor containing his office and training room. Like the upstairs, the floor is dark wood, but the walls here are a solid steel gray. He passes the chrome-plated door to his office, making his way to the only other doorpanel on the hall on the opposite side of the hallway. He removes his black leather glove with a swift motion, pressing his hand to the biometrics pad to the right of the door. The door slides open with a whoosh, granting them entry.

Rey follows him over the threshold before stopping, eyes wide as she takes it all in. Kylo knows this is likely the first formal training area she’s ever seen, nevermind that he’s let her into his private sanctuary. The floor is padded in black foam mats, as are the walls. At one end, a simple metal cabinet holds an array of weapons. Next to it is a small computer terminal built into the wall, with a small hatchway directly adjacent to it. The only other features of note are two other door panels.

Well, that, and the deep, scorched lightsaber gashes on the ceiling. Of course, Rey looks up and immediately notices these, her pink mouth twisting into a smirk. 

“I’m guessing the padding is replaced on a regular basis?” She teases, her hazel eyes twinkling playfully. 

“You could say that,” he says as smoothly as possible, hoping he sounds somewhat flirtatious and not at all like a nervous teenage boy with his crush in his bedchambers for the first time ever. 

“It’s so quiet here,” she notes, cocking her head again. It makes the angle of her jawline even more pronounced and Kylo considers whether she’s joined Kittara’s conspiracy to off him. 

“It’s designed to block out the sounds of the city. Sometimes, I need-“

“Silence,” she finishes for him softly, understanding radiating through their Bond. He sees a flash of a memory across her mind. In it, she’s darting into a supply closet, desperate for relief from the constant din and chatter of her fellow Rebels.

“I hoped it might be easier for us to focus here,” he explains. “Sit.” He gestures to the floor, waiting for her to lower herself to a seated position, legs crossed. She keeps her eyes on him, watching, searching, slightly less wary. He can tell she’s trying to keep her thoughts shielded now, but he could still hear her loudest thoughts slipping through the gaps. 

_Is he going to sit also, or just tower over me all day?_

“I tower over everyone, even when I’m sitting,” He shot back verbally, although he moved to the floor, crossing his long legs into the same seated position. 

“Wait, you heard that?” She yelped, clearly unaware of how ineffective her efforts were.

“Mm-hmm,” he nods. The alleged Last Jedi and the Jedi Killer were now seated directly across from each other, less than an arm’s length away. It’s the closest they’d physically been (outside of the Bond) since the _Supremacy_.

“You’ve been actively shielding your thoughts since breakfast,” he says non-accusatorially. “Your shields can hide most of your thoughts, but some keep slipping through. Usually those with more emotion behind them.” Rey’s cheeks flush a lovely rouge, a response Kylo finds most curious.

“Unfortunately, any skilled Force user could easily push past your walls, and you’re using too much of your energy and attention to keep them up. You should be able to keep them up subconsciously, using only a minimal amount of effort.”

“Like yours.” Rey gives him an annoyed look, like she’s almost jealous.

“Ah, you’re learning,” he croons, his tone teasing. Kylo swears he sees Rey shiver at this - another curiosity. He desperately wants to experiment, to try to learn why that tone affects her so and _why_ , but he wills himself to focus on the task at hand. 

Teach Rey, earn her trust, then comes seduction, remember?

“First, you need to mentally build your shields brick by brick. Think of them not as a shield but as solid walls. Nothing can get through them because you’ve taken the time to make them impenetrable.”

She nods, and he can already feel her rebuilding in her mind, following his directions. He waits for her to finish, the roar of her unprotected thoughts hushing to a quiet din. Then the softest whispers fade as she puts the last few bricks in place.

(He uses the time to congratulate himself for resisting the urge to dive into her completely unprotected mind. While he desperately wants to know the reason for her curious responses, his ever so fragile self-control, as well as his much stronger sense of self-preservation kept him at bay.)

Rey’s thoughts are silent now, her shields finished, unyielding.

“I can’t hear anything now,” Kylo says, almost proudly. Then, because he couldn’t resist testing her while her guard was down: “Good girl,” he purrs with that same tone that made her shiver before. He waits for her to snap some comeback at him, or hear a sarcastic insult slip through her walls (if not shot down their Bond).

Instead, Rey’s mind stays quiet, thoughts safely protected by her new shields. But her cheeks turned that delicious shade of crimson again, and he hears her breath hitch.

Kylo’s glad his own shields are so strongly in place (he’d learned that lesson quickly with Rey). He really doesn’t need her seeing his imagination running wild with all the other ways he could make her gasp like that. 

After again wrestling his brain back under control, Kylo shows her how to open a door in her shields to let someone into her mind. Then, he has her practice, testing her newfound skills and exploring their strengthening Bond. Rey shows him little glimpses of things that bring her joy: a delicate flower growing between cracks of a giant boulder; small, bird like creatures with big eyes that she calls porgs; the lush green forests of Takodana. He returns the favor, showing her things that may not bring him joy, but as close as the Dark Lord will allow it: the feeling of his new TIE Silencer roaring to life around him; the noise of a calligraphy pen scratching against fine paper; a steaming cup of Alderaanian tea; Rey’s brilliant smile. 

She blushes fiercely at this last one, and Kylo realizes that he’s been unconsciously keeping score of the number of times he elicits this reaction from her. So far, he’s up to three today. 

Her new shields do nothing to dampen the emotions they feel radiating off each other through their Bond, nor does it seem to damper her presence to him in the Force. Kylo finds himself oddly comforted by the fact that he can still feel her emotions so easily, as if its a secret portal into Rey’s psyche, just for him.

Unsurprisingly, Kylo doesn’t actually need to teach Rey how to incorporate her shields into her subconscious. As they continue to practice, he can actually feel them melding into the background noise of her mind as she becomes more familiar with it. He can’t help but grin at her when she realizes what’s happened. 

“Stealing my Force skills through the Bond again, Scavenger?”

She scowls at his cheekiness. “I didn’t mean to.” Then, an impish glint appears in her eyes, and Kylo suddenly feels a splash of wetness on his forehead, right between his eyebrows. He reaches up, confused, and finds nothing there, his gloved fingertips dry.

It was an old trick, one from back at the Academy that he and the older students developed to harass the younger padawans. Force Spitballs, Kittara called them. 

“Did you just do that?” he asks incredulously. 

Rey preens, obviously pleased with herself. “Someone has to teach me the ways of the Force.”

“I believe I offered.”

“Yeah, the Dark Side,” she snorts. 

Now it’s Kylo’s turn to cock his head at her, the gears in his impeccably coiffed head turning. 

Rey’s eyes narrowed. “Whatever you’re thinking about, don’t.” And then: “Oh.”

“Hmmm?” Kylo responded, still only half-listening. He flexes his jaw unconsciously.

“You made my thinking face. It’s the one I make when I’m trying to figure out how to fix an engine, or reach a salvage.” She pauses. “I think its from the Bond. It feels stronger, doesn’t it? We’re… our little habits, we’re rubbing off on each other.”

The Dark Lord nods, his attention now fully on his Bondmate. He’d noticed this development too, their physical proximity turning the threads of their Bond into durasteel. Rey being able to easily pick long-forgotten youngling pranks out of his head was proof of that.

She’s a fast learner, Kylo muses to himself, although today made it clear how little that worthless Luke Skywalker taught her while she was holed up on that rock with him. She was powerful but still so dangerously vulnerable, her strength in the Force making her a beacon for both those with good and bad intentions. 

If his wretched Uncle wasn’t already dead, Kylo would kill him for the indignity of his failure to teach Rey. Leave it to that egotistical old coot to refuse such raw talent, such beauty before him. 

“Luke didn’t teach me anything, really, did he?” she asks softly, the flippant lilt from her voice gone. She sounds scared, as if just now realizing how unprotected she’d been. 

Kylo thinks back to the information Kittara passed along to him this morning, before Rey came to breakfast. The Resistance is beginning its hunt for Rey, placing her in more danger than ever. The Supreme Leader knows that soon, his time with her will be up. Rey will decide to leave Coruscant and go to ground on some Outer Rim hellhole. Meaning they’ll have to part ways and she’ll be completely unprotected from all those looking for her. 

An icy fist of fear clenches around his heart. Kylo can’t allow her to ( _leave him_ ) get hurt. He knows she can protect herself, but at what cost? She can’t hide anymore, every bounty hunter in the galaxy will know her face soon. Their Bond already cost her so much, and if the Resistance allowed its existence to slip…

No. He can’t allow anything to happen to her. He has to keep her safe, keep her with him. Where he needs her, where she belongs. 

‘But you also can’t force her to stay.’ He really hates his subconscious sometimes, but damn, if it isn’t right. Attempting to make her stay through anything other than her choice would do more than destroy their delicate truce; a further betrayal could break the girl, drain all the Light from inside her. 

He needs to convince her to stay. He needs a plan, dammit, and a better one than the ill-conceived speech he gave her on the _Supremacy_.

“What did Luke teach you?” Kylo fought to keep his voice neutral, impassive, hiding the gears turning in his head. 

“The Force is in everything. The Jedi must end. How to lift rocks. How to be an absolutely miserable asshole and leave your sister to die. That I’m an idiot for believing in him. That’s about it.” Bitterness seeps into her tone, and Rey drew her slender knees up to her chest protectively. Hurt radiated through the Bond. Not at him. At Luke. 

Yep, Luke is lucky he’s already dead. 

“Sounds about right.” Kylo mutters. He takes another moment, jaw clenching back and forth again as he builds up the courage to put his newly birthed plan into action. 

It’s either genius or idiocy, or maybe somewhere in between.

“Rey. I need to tell you something.” Her lovely hazel eyes jerk up to his, alarmed. In this light, they’re more green than brown and its all Kylo can do to keep from getting lost in them.

“My second in command informed me this morning that the Resistance has placed a considerable bounty on your head. They want you alive, but between their reward and Hux’s, half of the damn galaxy will be looking for you.”

Her face hardens, and her eyes take on a slight gold shimmer.

“Kittara tells me that the Resistance has not revealed the existence of our Bond yet, but I’m afraid that if that leaks…”

“It’s dangerous for both of us,” she finishes, lips clenched together. Now she’s the one flexing her jaw pensively. 

“You do need a teacher, and more than what those boring old texts and our Bond alone can give you. Your powers are still uncontrolled, and you could end up hurting people, or yourself if you’re not careful.”

Now she’s looking at him suspiciously, and Kylo considers his next words carefully. 

“Before Kittara returned to the Order, she spent a little time with a woman named Ahsoka Tano. Have you ever heard of her?”

Rey shook her head.

“Ahsoka was a Jedi Knight, under the old Jedi Order. She was Anakin Skywalker’s only apprentice, ironically, before he turned. At some point before the fall of the Old Republic, Ahsoka saw the flaws in the Jedi Order and left, striking out on her own. This is how she survived Order 66. 

“Ahsoka trained herself in not just the Light side of the Force, but certain tenets of the Dark, too. She seems to have found a way to straddle the line between the two, achieving a sort of -“

“Balance,” Rey whispers, leaning towards him. There’s no distrust in her eyes now, and something hopeful flits across her face. 

“Yes.” Kylo reached into one of the many hidden pockets on his belt, pulling out a small wooden box with intricate carvings on the side. “When Ahsoka realized who Kittara was, she gave her this as a ‘gift’ for me.”

“A holocron?” Rey gasps, eyes widening as she took the object in.

“I haven’t watched it yet. I… actually wanted to wait till you could see it too. I think it might be important.”

Actually, Kittara had specifically instructed him to wait when she’d unceremoniously tossed it at his head. “Wait to open this until you’re with your Jedi girl, Ky. It involves her, too.” 

Eh, details.

Kylo removes his gloves before pressing his bare fingers to the small indentations in the wood. The holocron’s panels unfolded like a flower’s petals into his palm. The white-blue light of a holorecording flashed up from the center, and suddenly, a miniature version of Ahsoka Tano stood in his hand. 

“Kylo Ren.” she nods. And then, as if the wise old Togruta foresaw this very moment, she turns around to nos at Rey. “And Rey of Jakku.”

There’s a dramatic pause, and then a huff of laughter from the tiny figure. “And I thought Skyguy was trouble. I’m guessing your friend Kittara explained who I am and why I can call your grandfather Skyguy.” Ahsoka quipped after turning back to face Kylo.

Kylo concludes that sarcasm must be a required trait for Force users. 

“I’m not here to regale you with stories about the great Jedi Anakin Skywalker, or of his time as Darth Vader. I’m here to tell you what I’m guessing you both already figured out: its time to bring balance to the Force.

“You both have probably been told that the Force is commonly thought of either being Dark or Light and you fall on one side of it by tapping into Dark or Light emotions, blah, blah, blah. But I’m sure both of you know, deep down, that this viewpoint is wrong. And if so, you’re right. It is wrong. The Jedi and the Sith have been royally fucking it up for millennia now. There’s no sides to the Force; emotions don’t necessarily dictate what is dark or light. The only thing that makes that determination is the intentions, the aims of the person wielding the Force. One thing the Jedi got really, really wrong was this whole notion that emotions and attachment were the path to the Dark Side.

“If anything, that sentiment probably drove Anakin straight to it. But that’s a different holocron.” Ahsoka waved her hand in the air, as if swatting her tangent away. 

“Both of you desperately need to learn balance in order to figure out where you’re meant to be. And lucky for you, you have me to help you.” the former Jedi chirped cheerfully. “Now, since I’m not nearly as crazy as I used to be, I’m not gonna go fly onto the nearest Star Destroyer and ask the captain to pretty please take me to see Supreme Leader Kylo Ren. Instead, I’m giving your Knight of Ren a bunch of holocrons I’ve recorded for you and Rey to use to train. Together.” She shoots them both a look, as if expecting a protest. 

“Kylo, or Ben, or whatever you’re calling yourself today, you want to start a New Order? Well, here you go. Rey, you want to find a way to really, truly bring peace to the universe? This is it, kid. If either of you want to achieve your surprisingly mutual goals, you _both_ have to bring balance to the Force. And you can’t do that till you bring balance to yourselves. Since I hear you have a handy-dandy Force Bond-“

“Fucking Kittara,” Kylo growls.

“- unfortunately, or maybe fortunately, that means you two won’t be able to find balance alone. You’ll have to find it together, which I’m sure will be a challenge and I sincerely hope you’re able to refrain from killing each other for the galaxy’s sake. But hey, the Force seems to think you work together well, so maybe this won’t end in mayhem and bloodshed.” The odd little Togruta shrugs, and Kylo feels Rey’s eyes burning into his head

“If you’re willing to do this, to allow me to teach you both, I promise you, it’ll be worth it. But you both have to commit to this, together, and trust each other in doing so. I hope you’re both brave enough to do it.” With that final shot, the holocron vanishes, reaching its end. 

“Well, that was interesting,” Kylo huffs. He hadn’t expected Ahsoka’s holocron to be, well, any of what it was, but he was secretly delighted at how well it worked into his haphazard plan. 

“Is it a requirement that all Jedi be sarcastic?” Rey wonders aloud, echoing Kylo’s earlier thoughts. 

“I think it applies all Force users,” he responds smoothly.

“Mm, yes. I’ve met a couple smartassed Darksiders or two,” she quips back, shooting him a nervous smile. She seemed both nervous, although not towards him, if anything, she’s more at ease now (probably because he didn’t just try to convince her to become his Evil Padawan). He can see her mulling Ahsoka’s words, her offer over in her head, pondering. Which is probably what Kylo should be doing. 

Kriff, he thinks, his brilliant plan might just not work, but work so well that he’ll be able to keep Rey safe, with him, and allow him to finish what his grandfather started.

They stare at each other for a long time, longer than should be comfortable, each trying to figure out how to turn the raging thoughts in their minds into words.

**_Come with me_** , he says, exactly at the same time that he hears her say,

_I’ll come with you_.

They shoot each other an oddly comfortable, almost familiar smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for no mid-week surprise update last week. Work and real life got away from me, because apparently I'm an adult now and I need to do shit. Ugh. We're still on schedule for updates every Sunday, and I got this one to y'all a little earlier than usual as an apology. Plz don't hate me.
> 
> Also, and always, thank you all for the continued comments, kudos, bookmarks, follows. Y'all are amazing and keep me motivated and on schedule. It really, really means a lot because I keep expecting everyone to go "oh, this is shit!" and stop reading because I second guess myself constantly. It keeps my therapist in business. So thank you and please, keep them coming!!!
> 
> Quick notes about the chapter:
> 
> The muja cake looks like a pink concha. If you don't know what a concha is, get yo'self to a Mexican bakery, stat. (I hope you enjoyed that little Easter Egg/Carrie tribute with the Alderaanian sweet buns. God, Ben Solo is *such* a Momma’s boy.) 
> 
> I originally had no decision at the end of this chapter (or had Rey getting mad at Kylo and thinking it was a trap), because I want to be true to Rey’s character and I honestly went back and forth for a while on this. But, I ultimately kept reading through the scene before, one where a huge step forward was taken by Ben teaching Rey and not using it to trick her into tapping into the Dark Side or pushing into her mind, a moment which creates a lot of emotion and vulnerability between the two. Rey ultimately sees the good in people where no one else does, she’s also impulsive when it comes to Kylo. Plus, she wants a mentor/parent figure so desperately and here’s a Jedi legend actually offering to teach her (*cough* Luke). So, writing her getting mad or needing another chapter to decide ended up feeling like a huge step backwards and not true to her character or headspace at this point in the story. Hopefully it reads that way and y’all like how I did it. 
> 
> (Kylo, btw, definitely had an inkling of what Ahsoka might be offering, but he really didn’t expect it to work out so brilliantly. Dude is lucky AF.)


	5. This Side of Paradise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last week, Rey and Kylo find themselves agreeing to try to bring balance to the Force under Ahsoka Tano's tutelage. Now Rey's struggling with the ramifications of her decision and the whirlwind of change she's undergone in the past few days. Will Our Lady of Repression finally start dealing with her feelings and admitting that she wants Kylo Ben? Or will she give in to her fears and try to run faster than you can say "reverse Anidala"?

Kylo loses track of how long he and Rey sit there on the training room floor, staring into each other’s eyes but lost in their individual thoughts. It wasn’t a hostile staredown at all, more comfortable, relaxed - almost meditative, if both of them didn’t hate the practice so much. But eventually, they had to actually move, act, if they’re going to move forward with Ahsoka’s offer. And so, Kylo speaks first, breaking the spell. 

“I need to alert Kittara to the change in my plans so she can prepare somewhere safe for us to review the holocrons.” the Supreme Leader stood, enjoying the stretch in his legs after sitting criss-crossed for so long. 

“Somewhere - we’re not going back to your fleet?” Rey cocks her head again, and he couldn’t help but think that she looked kriffing adorable when she was confused. 

“No,” Kylo says softly. “I promised I wouldn’t bring you to the First Order, and I intend to keep that promise.”

“But don’t you have to, y’know, run the First Order? Do Supreme Leader-y things and keep Hux from trying to orchestrate a coup?” she protests. 

He chuckles at her characterization of his work as “Supreme Leader-y things.”

“I can do much of my work remotely. As for Hux, he’ll try to orchestrate a coup no matter where I am. Kittara’s keeping an eye on him.” 

Rey’s pink lips twist into a half frown as she processes this information.

“We thought - I mean, I thought all of the Knights of Ren were gone. Except for you, of course.” Her words are careful, knowing that she’s asking about First Order operations now, but her voice is soft and eyes cast downward.

She’s curious, he realizes with a pang of disappointment.   
Wait, why is he disappointed?

“They were, well, technically.” Kylo sighs. “It’s a long story, but essentially, all the Knights of Ren are either dead or gone, except for me. Five are dead, and Kittara was the only one categorized as ‘gone’.”

“Until recently.” An odd tone colored her voice, her accented words a little more clipped. 

“Yes. When I took over the First Order, I had Kittara come back. Well, kind of. She decided - She came back.” He sighs again. “It’s a long story.”

His hesitance to share the entire reason for Kittara’s defection and eventual return seemed to only further irritate Rey, inky verdant tendrils sneaking into her Force signature. It’s an odd reaction, even from this Pandora’s Box of a woman, and Kylo resists the urge to sigh a third time. 

He really doesn’t understand women. But he doesn’t want whatever Rey is feeling to make her regret her decision, send her fleeing, so he knows he needs to do _something_ to soothe the conflict raging in her mind (even if he doesn’t quite understand what it is and why its there. _Women_ , he hears his father scowl, causing him to almost scowl himself at his memory’s unpleasant intrusion).

“How about this: Let me make the necessary arrangements and get in some more work to ensure Hux won’t successfully overthrow me, and then I promise you can ask me whatever questions you want at dinner tonight.” He bargains in a tone that he hopes is calming and not condescending, and he realizes he’s doing the exact same thing his fa- Han would do when his mother gave him a look similar to the one Rey’s shooting him now.

Great, just great.

“Fine,” she agrees after a minute. “But only if I get to spar with you.”

Now that brings out a genuine smile in the Dark Lord. “Deal,” he laughs. 

===================

Rey can’t explain why she feels that twisting, clawing, ugly sensation in her stomach when Kylo mentions his fellow Knight of Ren, but she does. She doesn’t have a name for it -

‘Yes, you do, you just don’t want to admit it,’ Dark Rey hisses at her.

‘No, I don’t,’ she shoots back.

‘Then why are you creeping around his apartment, hoping to catch a glimpse of his communications while arguing with yourself?’ Dark Rey retorts.

Dark Rey has a point, Rey thinks. She _has_ been creeping around the apartment ( _exploring_ , thankyouverymuch). Ben gave her free reign to do so while he shut himself in what appeared to be his office to handle whatever arrangements and Supreme Leader-y business demanded his attention. This left Rey alone, and after some sparring with the training droids and exercises, the young woman was left with nothing to do for the first time in her life. Down time, people called it. So of course, she’s using it to her advantage. She’s still a scavenger and she’s still in enemy territory, technically. 

Although she did just agree to trust him and go off and train with him under the tutelage of some grey Jedi type that apparently knew his grandfather, so she should probably stop considering his apartment as enemy territory. 

The lightsider flicks that thought away, not wanting to dwell on her impulsively made decision to join Kylo and find balance in the Force. Which is part of why she’s exploring (wholly different from snooping), because it gave her something to do that wasn’t reflecting on the ramifications of her choice.

And so what if she gave into her well-toned instincts to investigate every inch of the place? If that included maybe trying to catch just a bit of Kylo’s dealings by use of air vents and heating ducts, so what? After all, they’re partners now, aren’t they?

Not that she’d been successful. Ben must’ve spent a fortune soundproofing the place because she can’t get anything, no matter where she stands. She’s now in the dining room, another sleekly designed testament to minimalist design that is rarely used, by the looks of it. It’s perfectly clean, and devoid of any dust or cobwebs, but the seats look brand new, no wear to the cushions.

_**Isar tu zinot zo verciau savoka?** _   
**Do you have a better idea?**

That voice.

Ben’s voice. It was just a whisper, carried through the Force, not their Bond. It felt lower than usual, more dangerous, inky and black. Rey’d never heard him speak in this odd tongue, but the darkness inside of her knew it like it was her first language.

_**Nu zinot kia daboti ji, Kittara. Tu zenoti kam m\'tye's xok priaet.** _   
**I have to protect her, Kittara. You know what she’s up against.**

The words wrap around her like shimmersilk, almost caressing her. She’s frozen, unmoving from where she’d been previously pacing circles around the large dining table. 

_**Nu meo\'n samoni nu adata kia uzpra tu\'iea permission.** _   
**I wasn’t aware I needed to ask your permission.**

It’s clear she’s only hearing his side of the conversation, and possibly not the whole thing. The words are harsh and hissing, like he’d been when they fought on Starkiller Base.

It’s strangely erotic.

_**Mes'll buti arti gana kia tave Fleet anas ar Hux jiso akcij, nu gal buti antai tuojausas.**_  
 **We’ll be close enough to the Fleet that if Hux makes his move, I can be there immediately.**

_**Tegu nun zenoti tikazi viskas's guvus. Oy, ir m\'tye needs vel clothes.** _   
**Let me know when everything’s ready. Oh, and she needs more clothes.**

The “she” Kylo is referring to is unmistakably Rey, but even in the dark tones of this language, there’s something warm about his voice. 

Meaning he must be talking to Kittara Ren, and Rey hates the stab of jealousy it creates.

A sliding swoosh alerts Rey to Kylo emerging from his office and she silently slips back into the apartment’s main sitting area. The Jedi stealthily finds a chair to perch herself on, trying to make herself look as relaxed as possible. She’s thankful for the plush black carpeting that covers the floors here, as it allows her to move undetected. 

She shakes her head, trying to clear the greasy feeling the strange language left on her brain.

‘What in the kriff was _that_?’

 

=====================

Sunsets are different on every world, and Coruscant is no different. 

The city thrums with activity, speeders whizzing by below, the din of so many beings feeding into the Force that it makes Rey’s head spin if she focuses on it too much. She’s standing on the small balcony outside her chambers, taking in the sights and smells of the city around her. She’s still surrounded by metal spires and towers, although Kylo’s building is so high that her balcony sits above many of them. Regardless, the balcony is hardly private, and Rey’s thankful for the invisible cloaking field that allows her to stand here undetected. 

The Coruscanti sky is streaked in orange, violet and fuchsia, although the setting sun isn’t visible through the jungle of buildings around her. She’d always loved watching the sun set, a rare time of tranquility for her, even back on Jakku. Rey reaches for the delicate wine glass resting on the railing in front of her. She takes another small sip of the burgundy liquid inside, enjoying its mineral taste on her tongue. 

Rey’s never been much of a drinker, even before she learned the truth about her parents. Losing that much control would be dangerous, leave her open, vulnerable, and Rey does not do vulnerable. 

She’d also never enjoyed the taste of what was offered to her. On Jakku, it was the vile knockback liquor that tasted more like freighter fuel and burned the whole way down. The only time Rey’d ever truly partaken in it was when she’d needed to cauterize a wound herself and taken the knockback as a preemptive painkiller. 

With the Resistance, the swill Poe brought out for secret parties (before he was General) was either far too similar to knockback, or so diluted that it tasted like stale water. It was easy for Rey to decline such drinks politely, choosing the euphoria of friendship and company instead. 

But this wine that Ben broke out for their dinner, this was something else; something truly lovely and divine. The way it tasted with their meats, intensifying the flavors, was truly special and Rey suddenly understood why people would want to drink enough to get drunk on the stuff. Still, she’d sipped on her glass carefully, despite wanting to greedily hoard it all for herself. Dinner was pleasant, light, with both of them nervously waiting for the other to address their decisions today (or worse, try to go back on them). When Rey felt a warmth creeping into her belly and heating her cheeks, she’d swiftly excused herself for some fresh air.

Vulnerability has never been her forte.

‘Everything is changing so quickly,’ the brunette thinks. Just a few days ago she was Rey, the sort-of Last Jedi and devoted hero of the Resistance. Now, she stood on the balcony of a Coruscanti penthouse, staring down into its depths like some sort of queen. She was the honest to kriff _guest_ of Kylo Ren, the Supreme Leader of the First Order. Her alleged nemesis, who she is now preparing to galavant off to Force knows where to be trained in the ways of the Force by the mysterious former padawan of Darth Vader. 

‘Anakin Skywalker,’ her brain corrects, but the irony of Rey’s situation still rings true. 

Gods, the Force seems to love irony. 

‘What the Hell am I _doing_?’ she finally asks herself, leaning her front over the balcony so her wrists hang off, wine glass dangling over the abyss. 

What she’s doing is surviving, she tells herself, what she’s always done. 

She is still that Scavenger girl from Jakku, but this city-world is changing her. 

The Bond is changing her. 

‘No,’ her heart beats, the wine allowing her conscious mind to finally recognize the truth she normally denied. No, the changes Rey feels aren’t from the Bond, or Kylo, or anything inside herself. The darker feelings, her desires are things solely her own. Parts of her she’s always carried inside of her. 

_You went straight for the darkness. You didn’t even hesitate,_ Luke Skywalker once chided her, but he was wrong. She held the darkness within her, unafraid, already old friends with it in some ways. But she didn’t let it own her, possess her. That’s what made her different. 

That’s what frightened the old man. 

She can’t attribute all her changes to her darkness, though. Another part of her is awake now, one that finally broke free of the tethers Rey’d tried to contain it with. 

The sky turns a beautiful deep crimson, and the fiery color reminds her of the Throne Room.

On Jakku, there was no room, no time for lust, crushes, desire. Her only goal was to live another day so her parents would find her. Dalliances of the body was like playing with sandsnakes: too dangerous to be anything but foolish. So Rey wanted not of the more carnal life, and outside of a few curious touches alone in her AT-AT, she’d stayed uncurious, closed off and cold. 

But now, she _wants_ , and oh, how does she want.

The wine makes her soul spill its secrets to itself, forcing her warring pieces to talk. She idly swirls it in her glass, watching a whirlpool form in the middle as she does. Rey briefly wondered what would happen if she dropped it now, over the ledge. How far it would fall before it finally came to rest, deep in the city’s labyrinth below. 

She desires Kylo Ren. At first, after the Supremacy, after Crait, she’d lied to herself that she only wanted Ben Solo; but her time on Coruscant has shown her that she doesn’t really care what the Supreme Leader calls himself, she wants him. His dark and his light. 

Rey feels the familiar scorch of envy, one she experienced on Jakku but never in this context. Not in the possessiveness of a good scavenge or portions, but over a person. Kylo’s earlier reference to his second in command, the mysterious Kittara Ren, and the obvious respect he has for her makes Rey’s blood run hot-cold and her own darkness beckon. Wine may give some liquid courage, but it had the opposite effect on Rey’s tongue tonight. She’d been unable to force herself to ask him about her, instead leaving that stone unturned. She didn’t want to know the truth about their relationship, their history. Not now, not tonight. 

Not when the damaged part of her keeps screaming at her to run. 

It doesn’t matter what Kittara is to him anyways, Rey muses bitterly. She knows that wanting what one can never have is pointless. Jakku taught her that lesson many times over. Recent events only reinforced that certainty. 

Rey pictures Kylo’s head in her mind, his pale skin, those full lips, strong nose. Black hair that frames his face. Deep brown eyes that betray his thoughts. The baritone of his voice. The way he clenches his jaw when lost in thought. He is handsome, she thinks, and regal. Every inch the prince he’s meant to be.

And therein lies part of the problem. He is Ben Solo, the son of a Princess and grandson of a Queen. He is Kylo Ren, the heir of Darth Vader. He knows the flowing script of calligraphy, the taste of many worlds and their luxuries. He is experienced, surely, with more than just the galaxy.

‘Now, look at yourself,’ her insecurities whisper, latching onto her moment of weakness and burrowing deep. ‘A desert rat, a Scavenger with no claim on anything. Not even a last name, that’s how insignificant you are. A clueless virgin, a child, one who just only recently learned how to use silver at the table.’

A tear slips from the corner of her eye, trailing down her cheek. It cools instantly in the evening air. 

“Rey,” Kylo calls out from behind her, startling the desert girl. How did he sneak up on her?

“Rey, what’s wrong?” Confusion and uncertainty rolls off him through their Bond, his eyes tentative. 

She offers no response, instead turning her face back to the sunset. He walks over until he’s standing next to her at the railing. 

She notices he’s not wearing his usual black gloves. 

They stand there, together for a moment, taking in the sights and sounds before them. She thinks that she’s never seen his face in natural light until now, and when she turns to look at it, she can’t help but gasp.

He is beautiful, bathed in the golden light of sunset. Her heart breaks at the sight of him, the Dark prince kissed by the rays of the setting sun. 

_**Rey.**_ He’s staring back at her, like he did on Ahch-To, in the hut when their hands touched. 

Her last piece of self-preservation screams at her, and so she again turns her face away from him again. She cannot lose him. She will not lose him. This, him, its all she has left, and she will not allow her girlish fantasies to break them apart. 

“Why are you helping me?” she asks, intending on sounding casual and cool. Instead, it comes out as a whisper, broken and lost. 

He pauses, as if considering, his gaze scanning over the cityscape before them.

“Why are you letting me?” he says softly, avoiding her question with one of her own. Normally this would incense Rey, but tonight, the wine and her vulnerability quells her temper, leaving her only with grief and want and longing and need. 

They go back to standing in silence, both lost in thought. 

Something shifts out of the corner of her eye, and she sees his right hand hovering over the top of her left one. Its less than an inch away, close enough for her to feel the heat of his palm. Her eyes dart to his face, finding his eyes focused on their limbs, spellbound by their closeness. 

With a burst of courage, Rey slowly spreads her fingers apart, signaling for him to continue.

Tentatively, Kylo’s pale fingertips make their way down to hers, sliding into the top of the gaps between her digits. The pads of his fingers are like fire, and it sets hers alight as his skin brushes against hers. Her blood sings in response, heat tearing through her veins and heart thrumming in her ears.

When she doesn’t move away, doesn’t flinch from his touch, his fingers continue downwards, skimming along the sides of hers until they reach the soft curve where her fingers join her hand. The movement sends more sparks down her body, a hot shiver running up her arms and into her neck, her scalp, down her breasts and straight to her core. Rey marvels at how such an innocent touch can feel so wickedly good when its with him. 

His hand rests atop hers for a second, and she can feel the calluses on his palm from his saber. It rubs against the soft skin of her hand, and Rey feels her nipples hardening into pebbles as if begging for his touch there. There’s another rough callus on the inside of his middle finger, one that’s decades old, so well established that its baby smooth except for its edges. When his fingers slide under her palm to hook onto her hand, it rubs the hypersensitive skin on the inside of her ring finger. It feels absolutely sinful, causing Rey to unconsciously press her thighs together.

She’s just as captivated as Kylo, staring at their joined hands and reveling in the fire of his touch. 

They remain there, perched atop his balcony, side by side and hands joined. He is a dark King and in this moment, she his Queen of Light, and they gaze out over their kingdom. They remain silent, neither willing to ruin this moment with words. 

They stay like this until the last drops of sun fade from the sky, leaving a velvet haze in its wake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These kids and their hands, lawd. 
> 
> See, this is what happens when I try to channel Rian with a sexy hand touch scene. After being inspired by a very pretty sunrise on my morning commute whilst listening to Hayley Kiyoko's "This Side of Paradise" (hence the chapter name). Blame the sunset scene on my half-awake mind and Kiyoko.
> 
> Bonus points to any readers that can guess what language Kylo's speaking in the middle scene. 
> 
> So, shorter chapter this time around but there's a couple of big plot developments in Kylo and Kittara's secret conversations (why's she so pissed, anyways?) and Hand Touch: The Sequel. The next chapter will also be shorter, but that's because **there will be smut!** So, if you're not here for the smut, not old enough for the smut, or reading this at work or someplace public, skip Chapter 6. I'm trying to isolate all the super smutty smut so people can skip around them if you want. So hold on to your butts, y'all, cause I just threw a little napalm onto this tire fire of a fic.


	6. Nighttime Admissions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Force Bonds are funny things. Sometimes, it lets you touch hands with a man with very pretty eyes, and sometimes, it lets you share your deepest, darkest desires with each other like an evil matchmaker. Because that's how the Force works, apparently, and the Force is getting sick and tired of this slow burn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Attention! This chapter contains smut. In fact, it is mostly smut. So, if you aren't of age, or don't want smut, please click on to the next chapter and skip this one. I'll put a chapter summary at the top so you don't have to miss anything (other than smut). By continuing to read this chapter, you're agreeing to the TOS for this site and that you're of legal age to read said smut, and waive any/all claims against me if you're not or suddenly offended to be reading smut because I fucking warned you.**
> 
>  
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>  
> 
>  
> 
> **Here endeth the disclaimer.**

In, out, in, out.

The sound of her breath is heightened here, in the galaxy of her dreams. They fill her ears with the sound of each inhale and exhale as she pants, faster than normal. Rey can feel her heartbeat throbbing in her pulse points, her wrists, her chest, and… 

Oh. 

This is one of _those_ dreams. 

In her dream, she’s in Kylo’s private training room, her right hand clinging to her staff. She is only half-dressed, sweat forming a glistening sheen on her skin as if she’s been training. Her regular leggings cling to her legs, but on top, she is only wearing her gray lace bralette that she’d put on this morning. 

Why in the Force’s name would she practice in something so frilly, so impractical, and - 

A dark shadow looms before her, stepping closer. 

Kylo. Ben. 

_Oh._

Yes, definitely one of _those_ dreams, Rey is sure of it now. 

He stares at her, dark eyes burning and pupils blown wide. Ben takes another cautious step towards her, unarmed. His lightsaber’s on the padded floor where he cast it aside earlier. Kylo’s looking at her like a predator stares down its prey. Not unlike how he looked at her on Starkiller, in the forest, except where there was bloodlust, there’s now hunger. 

Rey drops her staff, the sound of it hitting the floor and bouncing one, two, three times before rolling away. 

Rey’s ragged breath rings in her ears as he approaches her, closing the distance between the two of them. In, out, in, out. She tears her gaze from Ben’s eyes to his lips, plush and full and slightly parted, and she aches for him to kiss her. 

One ungloved hand grabs her waist at her hips, pulling her closer, giving her no time to protest. His palm is as hot as it was on the balcony, and the skin on skin contact sets her body aflame. 

“Rey,” Kylo purrs as he lowers his head towards her, his breath hot on her skin, tickling her neck, her jaw. “You know I can take what I want.” He murmurs into her ear, just like on Starkiller Base, the words even more alluring than before.

Rey shivers, the deep baritone of his voice in her ear only further awakening her arousal, making her flesh spark even hotter. Her Dream Kylo is always confident, always passionate, rough, but she can’t help but think that’s how he’d truly be. And perhaps, that’s part of what draws this part of her to him. 

Gods, the things he does to her. She can feel the wetness growing between her legs.

His lips swoop down, crushing hers to his in a powerful kiss, one that is both somehow bruising and tender. (The contradiction of this is briefly noted in her head, and then swept away by Kylo’s kiss.) He pulls her closer, pressing her small body up to his hard, shirtless chest (shirtless? When did that happen?), and the feeling of such close contact makes every nerve in Rey’s body come alive. Ben’s other hand snakes into the hair at the back of her neck, tugging at it gently to give him better access to her sweet mouth.

Kylo sweeps his tongue across the seam of her lips, seeking entrance to her mouth, and Rey is more than happy to grant it. Tongues dueling, the strong hand that was on her hip is now creeping up towards the lace edge of her bralette; the other coming out of her hair to rest his thumb at the base of her throat, his large hand splayed over her collarbone and gripping her shoulder. 

She needs his lips everywhere, Rey thinks.

They break away for oxygen, and Kylo, damn those full lips, starts kissing and nipping down her neck to her shoulder. His kisses are like shocks to her hypersensitive skin, making her gasp and bend her head to give him better access. Rey can feel how hard her nipples already are, even though he hasn’t actually touched them yet, his fingers still teasing at the lace covering them. Without thinking, her body arches towards him, pressing them closer, begging for his touch. The move only accentuates the feeling of his hard length digging into her stomach, his arousal as obvious as hers.

“Kylo,” she mewls, entwining one of her hands into his hair like she’s always yearned to do. His thick, obsidian locks are as soft and silk, and the feeling of his scalp on her skin makes her fingertips tingle.

Kylo’s lips are now at the sensitive juncture of neck and shoulder, and suddenly, he drives his teeth into her delicate skin there, sucking and laving his tongue over the spot. She moans in response, pressing further into him. Somewhere, in the back of her hazy mind she thinks that she’s never fantasized about him marking her before. But now that she is, she doesn’t mind it at all, and shivers from the sensation of his lips, tongue, and possessiveness. 

He moves his lips up to her ear again. “Mine,” he breathes into the shell, hot and sweet and dark like the wine from dinner last night. Rey moans again, more loudly this time and lets herself go, allowing her darker desires to run free in this dreamworld. His hands push under her flimsy bralette, sliding up the slight curve of her breasts to cup them. Kylo’s thumbs run over her so sensitive nipples, somehow making them harder and she needs it again, more, _harder_. As if he hears her need (because this is a dream), he begins stroking them with his thumbs, the slightly rougher skin of his thumb tips sending throbs straight to her clit. Rey’s free hand slips down, down over his deliciously muscled stomach, to where she gently grazes the clothed bulge of his cock. It feels bigger than she’d expected, ever dreamed of before, but hey, this is a fantasy, right? 

Kylo growls, hips bucking towards her touch, and Rey feels powerful as she strokes it again. Ben returns his lips to hers, kissing her deeply, like he needs to consume her.

Rey kisses him back like he is water and she is dying of thirst. 

He sinks to his knees, both hands moving to grip her small waist. Maker, she thinks, they’re so big they could wrap around her waist completely, fingertip to fingertip. She revels in the feeling of her smallness, her fragility, something she normally worked so hard to deny. 

Kylo’s eyes catch hers and they’re wicked, gleaming with some untoward plot.

“I want to make you scream for me,” his voice is that breathy purr again, his breath puffing against her navel. His hands are yanking down her leggings, in that same rough but caring way that he kissed her before, and of course, Dream Rey neglected to put on underwear before sparring. 

Dream Rey is obviously a girl on a mission.

Dream Kylo responds with an appreciative noise, pleased by Dream Rey’s foresight. She’s bare now, and Rey knows her cunt’s already soaking for him. Embarrassed, even here, and slightly confused as to why Ben’s kneeling down and kissing her hipbones, Rey moves to clamp her legs shut. But Kylo tsks, chiding her, placing his hands on her thighs and gently, gently prying them apart.

“You have nothing to be shy about. Not with me.” Kylo’s eyes are molten hot and his voice is gravely with lust, but Rey feels the conviction behind his words. Rey blushes, a deep scarlet, but she allows him access, lets him see all of her. For a moment, he looks mesmerized, like a man starved. 

“So wet for me, my sweet girl,” he slides a finger in between her lips and she can’t help but try to follow it with her hips, absolutely desperate for contact and friction. His fingers are so large, so unlike hers, and she feels herself clenching with need. She makes a whining noise that Rey, in all honesty, should be totally embarrassed to make and tries to convey across their Bond that she wants him to touch her again. 

“No, tonight, I get to taste you.” If his eyes were wicked before, they’re pure sin now, pupils blown so wide that there’s no sign of his normal brown irises. Rey cocks her head at his words, trying to grasp what exactly he means by tasting her. She glances down at Kylo and sees his head, no his lips making a beeline straight for the apex of her thighs, and suddenly realizes that that he’s going to kiss her _there_. His breath is hot on her cunt as she pants out a questioning “Kylo?”

Before she can wrap her mind around this foreign and frankly (but only slightly) alarming concept, his tongue dips between her folds and swipes up to the top of her clit, skimming the bundle of nerves hidden there. She gasps, loudly, sucking in her breath at the sensation of fucking fire running through her. He does it again, and she follows his tongue with her hips, moaning.

“Kylo!”

_**Oh, sweetheart, you taste… amazing**_. His voice is in her head, thick with lust, and its only making Rey more turned on. Whatever odd place her brain has pulled this from, she’s decided that she’s more than okay with it. His tongue dances over her clit, diving in and out, lapping up every bit of her wetness. Every time it skims her clitoris she cries out again, something deep in her coiling tighter and tighter. Her knees feel like they could buckle but through some miracle of the Force she stays standing. 

Kylo’s tongue travels down, down to her entrance and he circles it, once, twice, before slipping inside of her aching cunt, flicking in and out of her. She feels her inner walls grasping at him, trying to draw him in, more, more as she’s moaning, sounding like some wanton thing from a dirty holovid. His nose bumps up under the hood, brushing along her clit and making her see stars. 

**_Gods, Rey, you’re so fucking tight_** , he moans into her and the vibrations only spur on more heat into her body. If she was aflame before now she’s an inferno, back arching as her senses grow dull to everything but his touch, his lips, his tongue. Kylo withdraws his tongue and licks back up her slit, till it makes firmer contact with her swollen nub than before, sucking and circling it, applying enough pressure to make her keen his name. Rey needs more, something inside, feeling her walls clenching at nothing, desperate for contact as her fingertips twist into his black curls. As if Kylo’s reading her mind, one of his hands moves down from her waist to slide one long, perfect finger into her cunt, filling her. Kylo starts to thrust his digit into her slowly, teasingly. She feels her walls clench around it, hugging it, needing something to grab onto as his tongue truly begins to work at the top of her clit, swirling and flicking and sucking right where she needs it. She scrambles for purchase, fingers in his hair, skin growing too hot and toes curling with pleasure.

“Kylo,” she moans, her voice pitching higher. “Kylo, please. Maker, Kylo.”

He slides another finger into her cunt and curves them forward, pressing into the spongy muscles towards the top, a place Rey’d never been able reach before but now that he has it feels divine, applying just the right amount of pressure. 

The sides of her vision swim as her whole body goes absolutely rigid, her back somehow arching even more towards him. “Kylo,” she gasps, “Oh, Kylo, please, I’m…”

_**Come for me, Rey. Scream for me.** _

“Kylo!” She shrieks, and the coil inside of her snaps, bursting into stars as her walls grip his fingers so tight she fears they might break. She is dimly aware that she is screaming his name over and over like an obscene mantra as he continues to lick and thrust her through her orgasm, prolonging it in a way Rey never knew possible. Only once he feels her finish coming down does he slow and finally withdraw from her. Kylo rises off his knees, bringing his face next to hers. She can see them glistening with her juices and without thinking, she leans forwards, capturing his lips with hers. 

The taste of her on him is exquisite, and he groans into the kiss, capturing that thought from her mind.

She pulls back, looking into his deep brown eyes, hissing, “Mine.”

====================

Rey jerks up in her bed, flying into a sitting position. Her cheeks are red and she’s panting, unconsciously clenching her thighs together, the heat and wetness there evidence of the effects of her dream. She kicks her sheets aside from where they’ve tangled around her legs, skin flushed and too hot, still burning from Dream Kylo’s touch.

Slowly, Rey’s breathing comes down, although the persistent need between her legs remains, her cunt still tight and aching.

She’s dreamt about Ben before, similar to this, but never has it felt so… real. Like he was actually there, dreaming with her.

She shakes her head violently at the thought. ’No, there’s no way that could happen, Rey. That’s _not_ how the Force works. Besides, he doesn’t want you like that, he doesn’t see you like that,’ she tells herself firmly.

‘Then what was the balcony?’ that damned inner voice was back, and Rey tries pushing that spark of hope away. 

She can’t help but wonder though, where her brain pulled certain darker ideas from. For starters, the idea of his mouth on her clit, licking and kissing her like that. Of course Rey knew, both from Jakku and hanging around too many braggart Resistance pilots, that women did that to men, but she’d never heard of the reverse. 

And yet she dreamed of it, and the wicked, yearning part of her hopes this is something lovers do. 

She shakes her head again, huffing aloud. This is _not_ helping her calm down. 

For once, Rey is thankful that the Bond didn’t connect them in their sleep tonight. She’s not sure she could face Kylo if she’d woken up from that dream to find her next to him. 

‘Or keep yourself from jumping him.’

“Shut _up_ , will you?” she hissed aloud at herself, then freezes, detecting something in the Force. 

Ben.

He’s awake. She can feel it through the Bond, the tumult of emotions churning from him. His mind is unguarded, and in this moment, Rey can’t resist the temptation to brush up against his thoughts.

She knows its wrong, but then again, so is dreaming about his head between her thighs. 

Rey closes her eyes, delicately skimming across the top of his mind. Lust, desire, want and need greet her like a sandstorm, swirling and violent. At first, she thinks she must still be in her own head, so she tentatively slips deeper.

She sees her face from Kylo’s point of view, looking up at her. Her eyes are more green than brown in this moment, and they’re glazed with pleasure. He thinks she looks beautiful, and he wants to worship her like a goddess. She realizes he’s on his knees as he leans closer to the patch of curls nestled between her thighs and her gasping his name, questioningly. 

Shocked, Rey jerks her mind back out of Kylo’s with the grace of a baby rathtar, not even trying to be covert. 

He was in her dream, she thinks, then stops, knowing that its more than that, its not just simply _her_ dream. 

It was his too. 

Her breath hitches in her throat as another wave of desire runs through her at the thought. They’ve now spied upon each other’s secret wants, a realization that feels deliciously wrong and leaves her squirming with desire. Who would’ve thought she’d be so into voyeurism? 

Speaking of secret wants, it hits her that Kylo between her legs was _his_ contribution, not hers. 

She swallows, feeling her insides clench again, begging her for something to fill them like Kylo’s fingers had in the dream. Her mind slips back into the fantasy, the way his lips felt so warm, his tongue, his evil, merciless tongue traveling up, up her clit. Her thoughts are distracted by the memory and the shock of her revelations; her hand unconsciously trails down her flat stomach as she wonders if Kylo’s mouth would feel just as good in real life.

In the back of her mind, she detects the lightest sensation of Ben probing her mind. That familiar dark presence just gently sliding along the surface, like she just had to him a few moments ago. For a moment, she is so lost in reliving the dream and the feeling of Kylo Ren’s tongue on her cunt that it doesn’t even register. The idea of her fallen prince wanting her, her, the scavenger nobody from Jakku, shoots jagged arrows of arousal through her body. Her fingers slip beneath her panties and she is wet, so wet, and -

‘Shit!’ Rey mentally curses, realizing that her shields are completely down and she’s basically screaming her desires at him. With a torrent of curses in Huttese and Basic, she slams her shields back up, throwing him out of her mind. She yanks her fingers away from her swollen nub like a child caught stealing rations.

She swears she can hear him chuckle across their Bond. Her cheeks burn in response. 

She fights to get her wandering appendages under control as she reinforces her shields. For a moment, anger burns through her, consuming some of her lust. Then the more rational voice is back, reminding her that she just did the same to him and _double standards_ , Rey. 

The almost Jedi flops back into her nest of pillows dramatically, sighing loudly. She begins the arduous process of forcing herself back to sleep, deciding to muse on this new development in the morning. Then she’ll be calmer, with the light (hopefully) chasing away the night’s passions. 

At least that’s what she tells herself as she lies there, body still humming with electricity. The idea of facing him, Force, _sparring_ with him tomorrow as planned fills her with dread.

Maybe she doesn’t want to face the morning, she thinks. 

But deep down, that traitorous bit of her begins excitedly counting down the hours until daylight.

======================

Kylo also jerks awake into a sitting position, black linen sheets pooling around his shirtless torso. While this is standard awakening operating procedure for him (thanks, nightmares), the reason tonight is decidedly not. The sound of Rey screaming his name rings in his ears, and Kylo drags his hand through his hair with a soft groan. 

‘Fabulous,’ he thinks, very aware of how very hard he is. 

He doesn’t need to bother testing the Bond to know that Rey’s also awake, very awake, meaning he’d have to will his cock back into dormancy tonight. Trying to handle it himself (so to speak) would be downright dangerous, given his mental state and her proximity. 

Sexual dreams are something he’s had to deal with since, well, he stalked Rey down on Takodana; but never has one felt so vivid. Like she was there, with him, a more than willing participant in his wicked fantasy. 

It felt… _real_. 

The thought gives him pause, making him draw his breath in sharply. He’s wondered whether he could slip into her dreams before, considered testing it before concluding that such a violation wouldn’t be worth it. Kylo knows from his research its possible for bonded Force users to share visions, meditations, but he’d never read anything about dreams.

But he knows their Bond is different from any other documented Force Bond. 

Kylo’s very thankful that for once, he’s not waking up next to Rey. After that dream, he doubts he’d be able to keep himself from pinning her down and kissing her right then and there. Plus, she’d certainly notice his cock, fully awake and standing tall, and that would be a hard thing to explain away.

(Not that it hasn’t happened before when he’s woken up next to her, her back pressed into his and the curve of her ass pushing into his hips. Those times, he’s always been thankful he’s woken up first.)

He ponders the likelihood of them sharing his dream for a moment. Talk about an inappropriate use of the Force, he thinks with a smirk.

And then he stills, jaw even freezing in place as he realizes that not only is Rey awake, but feels her familiar presence dipping into his mind, his thoughts. 

He should chuck her out, he knows. The part of him that is all too familiar with rejection, with disgust, the part that begs to keep his prurient desires hidden from her for fear of chasing Rey away, that part of him begins to rear up for a moment. 

‘No,’ he pushes it back down, feeling oddly bold and daring. There was something about her presence now, her aura stained with something she’d fought to keep from him. 

‘Let her see,’ he thinks, throwing caution to the wind. He needs to know if she dreamed it too. If this was his and his alone, or if there was hope for a monster like him. Besides, she won’t run now, not after accepting Ahsoka’s offer to train them both. 

He begins to replay his favorite parts of dream in his head, already seared into his memory. He recalls the way she’d keened as he licked her sweet clit, his scavenger girl absolutely dripping for him, the way her juices coating his tongue.

He wonders if she’d taste even sweeter in real life.

With the slightest twinge of pain, he feels her jerking back, tumbling out of his mind like a child touching a flame. Embarrassment and guilt radiate down the Bond, as well as something else.

Lust. For _him_ , he realizes, and his cock twitches again, begging him to take it in hand.

_It was his dream too_ , she’s shouting her thoughts again, and suddenly, he’s feeling anything but shame from her. He can practically see her squirming in her bed, thighs clenched tight as if trying to give herself some sort of relief. 

It is all Kylo can do to keep himself from dashing down the hall to her room and fucking taking her right then and there. 

But her mind is open, wide open, and Kylo can hear everything now. He knows he shouldn’t listen but it was her fault. After all, she broke the rules first and fuck it, he’s the evil one, right?

‘So let’s be evil.’

Kylo can’t help but slip his cock out of his pants as he watches her realize that him licking her cunt was his fantasy, not hers. His sweet Rey; she’d had no idea such an act existed, and he shivers at the thought of teaching her all the wicked things he could do. He notes that Rey is equally excited that such an act exists, and files it away for future reference. 

He can see her clearly now in his mind’s eye, their Bond allowing him to gaze upon her in all her seductive glory. Like him, she is sitting up in bed, sheets kicked off. She’s wearing a plain white sleeping tank, one sheer enough so that he can see the slightest outline of her pert breasts in the city lights. Her nipples are tight little pebbles, and he can see her skin is flushed. Fascinated, he watches her breathe heavy, ragged pants as she remembers the sensation of his fingers buried deep in her cunt, pressing against some magic bundle of nerves as tongue flicked across her swollen clit.

Her fingers trail over her stomach, dipping beneath the top of her soft blue panties. Entranced, Kylo watches as her hand continues down to her soaked folds. He watches her breath hitch as her digits find the swollen bud he’d laved at in their dream. She is lost to her desires, he wants me, he wants me, he wants me, ringing across the Bond and fuck, he can practically feel how wet she is as he idly begins stroking his -

Shit! she practically shrieks, and Kylo physically tumbles back with the amount of force that Rey uses to evict him from her mind. The last thing he catches is an impressive string of curses and a wave of anger.

That’s his girl, he can’t help but think with a smirk. He drops his cock with a silent apology, the tortured member throbbing painfully. No sense in continuing that now and risking pissing her off more, he knows. 

Hopefully she’s not too mad, or at least remembers that she started it this time. If all else fails, Kylo can always play it off that he’d felt something alarming coming from her end and was just checking to make sure she’s okay, that’s all. 

Kylo leans back into his pillow, processing his newly acquired knowledge.

First, he and Rey can share dreams. Not just any dreams, mind you, but sex dreams. It is perhaps the creepiest thing their Bond has done yet (and that’s saying something), but he finds himself incredibly intrigued over the potential uses for their new ability. They’d shared this dream, even without him intentionally trying to, meaning that he likely could harness it and make it more intentional. 

That could be fun. 

Second, this dream started as _her_ dream. Yes, he was a more than willing and active participant, but that’s not the point. Rey _dreamed_ about him. Kissing her. Touching her. And now (thanks to his contributions) tasting her. 

Again, Kylo’s erection throbbed, reminding him that he was very much unsatisfied. Kylo sighed, tucking it away and hoping it eventually calmed down. 

The third revelation from tonight is the most important one. Thanks to their Bond, Kylo now had confirmation of his darkest suspicions, ones so laden with hope that he’d dared not give them too much credit before now. 

Rey was attracted to him. She wanted him. 

Not just Ben Solo. Not just the dream of some long-dead specter, a boy no one had ever truly wanted. No. He would never forget the way she screamed, moaned his name, his _chosen_ name in ecstasy as she came.

She wanted _him_. Kylo.

In fact, the only thing holding Rey back seemed to be her massive (yet warranted) trust issues and her strange conviction that he didn’t reciprocate her desires. 

Something itches at his brain, a train of her thoughts he’d idly caught rushing through her mind right before she realized he was listening. Something he’d filed away for later as he was too busy watching her hands moving under her panties; some key to her underlying thoughts and fears. Something like… 

_He wants me, can’t believe it, such a scrawny girl and yet - But he’s a kriffing prince, and I’m just a scavenger, a nobody, nobody wants me, everyone always throws me away - I can’t believe, he can’t - He does. Even if its just in a dream, he does. He wants_ me. 

Kylo’s heart twists with recognition at the self-doubt, the loathing Rey whispered to herself. Somehow, in this twisted world, Rey, his Light, had convinced herself not only that he didn’t want her, but that she wasn’t good enough for him. 

She believed she was beneath him. 

The large man almost laughs at the irony of the situation. If only she knew how many times he’d told himself he didn’t deserve her; that he’d destroy her with his darkness, his anger. That he could never be enough for her.

After all, he’d never been good enough for anyone else, even the people who were supposed to love him by default. 

Her behavior made much more sense now, one Kylo more than understands. Her sudden trust in him, the sadness she’d revealed on the balcony. The flare of something like jealousy when he’d mentioned Kittara in front of her.

For the longest time, Kylo’d wished he had the strength to just embrace his darkness and rip her pretty little head open to him. To know everything she thought about him, rifle through her darkest desires. See if he filled any of them. But he’d always shied away, refusing to do something that so undoubtedly unforgivable and then cursing his compassion in the same breath.

Yet, the Bond itself had acted to show it to him itself. As if the Force was now playing matchmaker. 

This is almost too good to be true, he thinks, his ever-present wariness lurking at the edge of his thoughts. 

But Kylo’s in too good of a mood to pay it much attention and pushes the dark thought away. He crosses his arms behind his head, half-formed ideas taking root in his mind as he begins to plot. 

And to think, all this happened because the Resistance was dumb enough to use her as bait, the Supreme Leader thinks with a smile. 

He should really send Poe Dameron a kriffing fruit basket for this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You didn't really think I was gonna have them hop into bed that fast, did you? This is a slow burn, y'all! 
> 
> Anyways, for those of you still here, hope you enjoyed. First time I've ever published smut, folks, so I'll take any constructive criticism or feedback (translation: I love comments, please feed my need for validation). Now our heroes have to not only face each other in the morning, but Kittara heard "awkward sexual tension" and is heading their way to stir some shit up because that's what friends are for, right? 
> 
> As a thank you to for all the comments and support, I'm posting the next chapter tonight. Like, its all written, first edit is done, and just giving it the final read-through so it should be up before midnight EST.


	7. The Second Knight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last Chapter: Rey and Kylo shared a rather intense sexual dream, which cause them both to wake up and smell the Folgers in their cup. And by that, I mean the facts that they're both incredibly attracted to each other, and are also sharing sexy dreams. Naturally, this causes Rey to freak out with embarrassment and also rekindles her hope for her and Kylo to actually, y'know, do more than smolder at each other eventually. So, two steps forward, one step back? Meanwhile, Kylo's just freakin' ecstatic because he knows she wants him and why she's acting weird and boy is plotting again. Sigh. Lucky for him, his Counsel's on her merry way, meaning its time to meet the mysterious Second Knight of Ren.

Morning comes too quickly for Kylo, the brightness of Coruscant’s sunrise blaring through the slits of his blinds and smacking his pale face. He awakens after a fitful three hours of sleep, limbs twisted in his black sheets and mind barely rested. Unsurprisingly, finding out that the woman you’ve been obsessing over for the last three months reciprocates at least some of your feelings doesn’t make for a calm mind. After waking from his and Rey’s shared dream last night, his mind refused to stop racing. Meaning what sleep he had was restless, but sleep deprivation is par for the course for the Supreme Leader. 

He pulls himself out of bed with only the slightest of hesitation, taking a moment to stretch and crack the joints in his spine, relishing the _pop pop pop_ and release of tension as he did. Kylo is a slave to his morning routine, and besides, if he gets up now, he can get all his leadership bullshit out of the way and focus on Rey for the rest of the day. 

The thought is good incentive, and Kylo proceeds to shower, shave and dress with military precision. He drinks his morning caf in his office with his primary HoloPad, firing off directives and reviewing intelligence reports. 

The First Order’s rebuilding efforts for war-torn worlds has quelled potential rebellions on three different planets, which pleases Kylo greatly. He’d had to fight hard to get the officers on board with that plan, as the First Order historically gave little thought to the happiness or well-being of its citizens. But Leia Organa herself had taught him that happy people, content people don’t rebel, and as much as he hated to admit it, she was right. 

The Knight is far less pleased when he reads that the Resistance is not only doubling down, but its leadership (if one can call it that) put two and two together and suspects she’s with him. Naturally, there’s some concern that Rey has betrayed them and is spilling her guts to the First Order, though their spies indicate this point is the matter of much debate. Still, it adds another layer of threat to the bounty they’ve placed on her head (in addition to Hux’s), despite the order to return her unharmed. Kylo’s mouth twists into a frown and he clenches the steel mug in his hand a little tighter. Not that the First Knight of Ren and heir of Vader can’t handle some pithy bounty hunters, but the entire galaxy is now hunting for Rey. Its yet another reason why Kylo needs to keep playing his cards carefully and not scare his desert rose away. 

Yes, he knows Rey can handle herself (Exhibit A: the scar on his face), but the woman is a magnet for trouble. 

As he thinks of her, he can’t help but recall how she looked in their dream last night: lips parted and colored from his kisses, skin hot and flushed. The noises she made as he pleasured her. Force, the thought of those alone were enough to drive him crazy, he thinks.

Kriff, now he’s hard again. 

Kylo Ren glares at his erection with a look that’s usually reserved for Hux when the man is being particularly vexing. It’d never truly gone away after last night, and at this point, he’s getting concerned about all this bloodflow. It can’t be healthy. 

With a frustrated huff, the Supreme Leader tosses his HoloPad on his desk before getting up from his chair. He stalks towards the discreet doorpanel in his office wall, pressing his hand to the access pad. It responds by blinking green, and with the familiar whooshing noise of hydraulics, the door slides open. Kylo crosses into his training room from his office’s private entrance, yanking off his tunic as he did. He throws it to some corner, not really caring where it lands (he has twenty-seven others just like it in his closet), leaving him in his pants and the standard issue black tank top he wears under his shirt. 

The Knight uses the Force to activate the training program, falling instinctively into fighting stance as the droids spark to life. He can feel the familiar darkness dancing in his veins, and he removes his saber from his belt. 

With a crackle as virulent as his temper, the blade comes to life. It reflects in his eyes, and, if the training droids were programmed to, they’d marvel at the powerful sight before them.

Kylo spars for awhile, allowing a different, more socially acceptable form of release as he pours two days’ worth of sexual frustration into his exercises. Eventually, he loses the tank, sweat dripping from every inch of him as he works to regain self-control. He is so lost in his fight that he misses the ping of his commlink, as well as the chime of his guards alerting him to a visitor. He doesn’t even detect her until she is steps behind him, her own saber drawn as she advances. With a roar, Kylo spins, blocking her attack with his.

“Good morning, Supreme Leader. Working out some frustration, are we?” the petite woman grins, wicked amusement gleaning in her eyes. 

“Kittara. You’ve gotten even better at Force-cloaking.” he responds impassively, deactivating his saber. She responds in kind, but her playful expression remains unchanged. 

“You know, most people use caf to wake up.” 

“I needed something stronger,” he quipped, reaching to take a towel off a nearby rack. His Counsel rolls her amber eyes in response, not needing the Force to tell her why.

“I take it your girl’s still alive and in one piece?” 

“Mmm,” Kylo grunts affirmatively. Kittara Ren is definitely one of those Force-sensitives with a true gift for sarcasm, something which he both appreciated and cursed, depending on his mood. 

He feels a slightly pleasureable tingle at the nape of his neck, the most subtle whisper of Kittara’s mind brushing his. She’s exquisitely talented in this part of the Force, a skill that makes her invaluable as his eyes and ears. Sensing his irritation, she decides to show her Master a rare flash of mercy. 

“So, Supreme Leader, let’s get down to business, since I know you’ve got some… pressing matters coming up soon,” she says with a smirk, because mercy with Kittara is never fully given and the woman lives for a good double entendre. “In fact, I’d like to revisit our prior argument about who gets to kill Dameron, because I think you owe me. Big time.”

==================

The sudden appearance of a new Force signature in the apartment causes Rey to jerk awake. In fact, the young woman virtually flies out of bed into a fighting stance as soon as she detects the intrusion.

Or, she would have had she not apparently twisted her sheet around her so that it bound her legs together, causing her to rather gracelessly fall on the floor with a thump and a cry. 

“Oh, fucking Hell,” she mutters, kicking the soft white fabric off of her. She reaches out for Kylo’s Force signature, just as she did the morning before, seeking reassurance. His familiar energy is easy to locate, as he is apparently well-awake, but she senses nothing alarming from it. Still, she finds herself needing more, wanting to see him, to ascertain that he’s fine and there’s no danger.

Just like that, she can see him. They’re not connected like they normally do through their Bond, thankfully, as Rey is not ready for Ben to see her with bedhead and morning breath, but she can see him in her mind’s eye. A new development of their Bond? she wonders, before realizing that no, this is something Kylo already figured out and their Bond decided to share with her. 

Speaking of the Devil and their Bond (which Rey is now convinced is trying to tease her to death), the picture of Kylo in her mind is _not_ helping her forget about her (their) dream last night. He’s shirtless, sweat glistening over his well-sculpted torso. She can see the fine hairs at the back of his neck plastered to his pale skin, and her mind immediately goes to the vision of him in her dream, head between her thighs as his tongue -

Force, she needs a cold shower, as she shakes the image from her head. If she can see Kylo now in her head, then he might be able to see into hers and she did not need him seeing that-

‘Except he already has. Shared dream, remember?’ that evil, self-depricating voice of hers was back, and Rey actually huffed in response before her cheeks turned a bright shade of pink.

‘Oh, Maker, we shared a sex dream and I have to look him in the kriffing eyes today.’ she thinks with horror. Briefly, the almost-Jedi ponders just how mad Kylo would be if she decided to just turn tail and jump onto her ship rather than face him after last night. 

She should _not_ find the idea of an enraged Kylo Ren hunting her down arousing, dammit. 

The unknown Force signature warbles in the Force, drawing her attention back to it. It doesn’t seem hostile, and Ben appears relaxed, nothing unusual in the dark energy that Rey knows as his. 

_**Kittara Ren**_ , Kylo whispers over their Bond. Ah, so that explains it. Kylo’s mysterious right hand, whom Rey’d neglected to interrogate him about at dinner last night. 

A decision she’s regretting now.

Rey showers at record speed, wanting to sate her curiosity and also not entirely comfortable with being in any state of undress with another Knight of Ren so close by. Today, she twists her hair into a single bun, not willing to spend the time to do her customary three. She marches to the closet, reaching in for the most sensible looking thing, a black one-piece jumpsuit which Rey quickly realizes is anything but.

For starters, it is skin-tight.

Rey peels off the offending garment, thumbing through the remaining articles of clothing at lightspeed. The dress is definitely out, as is another jumpsuit with shorts instead of pants (and short ones at that) and a top made out of less material than her breast binder. 

She finds a far more acceptable dark gray two piece set which she immediately settles on. The only skin it shows are two triangular cut-outs: one on her right waist, extending from the bottom of her ribcage to just shy of her navel. The other is larger, starting at her left shoulder and spanning across the top of her chest until it narrows to a point just above her where her breasts start to form but high enough to cover everything. Yes, its still tight, clinging to her torso, but not uncomfortably so. It’s made of a stretchier, more breathable material which allows Rey movement, in case she needs to fight. It even comes with a handy utility belt, which she clips her blaster to before leaving her chambers. 

Determination sets into her features as she stalks into the kitchen, stopping long enough to grab a freshly made sweetbread before continuing down to the training room. 

It’s time the last Jedi meets Kittara Ren.

===================

“You really think Mustafar is the right place to start off this whole ‘restoring balance’ thing?” Kittara snorts, shooting the Supreme Leader a look. 

Kylo sighs. Here he was, thinking he’d almost been able to finish their briefing unscathed, but typical Kittara was not letting this go. And of course, Rey was up and moving around, meaning she’d be heading towards them soon. 

He swears Kittara’s doing this on purpose, and he pinches the top of his nose with his index and middle fingers in annoyance. 

“We discussed this. Mustafar is just a stop for a couple days while we finish securing everything. I can control the fleet and make the necessary arrangements, while keeping Rey safe and not arousing any suspicions.” He responded flatly. 

“You mean Hux’s suspicions,” the female Knight retorts. “Really, Kylo, I can make it look like an accident, and we don’t have to worry about whatever plot he’s cooking up. Win-win, as I see it.” This again. Kittara’s been begging him to let her kill Hux since she returned to the Order. He really can’t blame her, given their history and, well, Hux in general, but he knows Kittara won’t be sated by anything that could be passed off as anything other than a homicide and that’s not what he needs right now.

“Dismemberment hardly looks accidental.”

“Only if you do it wrong,” she chirps, then her face turns serious. “I’m just saying, Ky, think about this. Vader’s influence is strong there, and if I can feel her wavering, I know you can too.” Her tone softens, becoming one of old friends who’ve been through enough heartbreak together. 

Rey’s Force signature shimmers, and Kylo feels their Bond hum happily. She’s moving, and as he predicted, coming right for them. He gives Kittara his best “For the love of the Force, please shut up now” look and clears his throat, eager to change the subject. 

“You said you received one of your sources sent you some new information on the Resistance?” Kittara’s persuasiveness garnered her many valuable informants, and the most classified information (namely, that which could immediately endanger Rey or General Organa), was only delivered directly to her. She then relayed everything to him, either face to face or via secure Holo while speaking Sith for security purposes. 

After all, they’re the only two people left in the galaxy that speak it.

Kittara raises an eyebrow, but thankfully drops the Mustafar matter. “Indeed. Dameron’s getting desperate and itching for a fight. He’s trying to spin our Otomok reparations as some sort of military operations. While most of the citizens aren’t buying it, they’re not trusting us yet-“

“Wonder why,” the Supreme Leader snorts, cursing Snoke and Hux’s past cruelty.

“The problem’s that Dameron’s lobbying to take some action to ‘draw out the truth.’ Basically, he wants to attack the relief headquarters and hopefully find a military op. If not, he figures he’ll spin it to look like it was anyways.” Kittara’s voice makes her dislike for the Resistance leader apparent. If Hux is number one on the redheaded Knight’s hit list, Poe Dameron holds the title of second place.

“Typical Dameron,” Kylo shakes his head. “His troops will be slaughtered, we’ve already stationed extra security there as a decoy to make them think I’m heading there for a press op-“

“Which you’re still scheduled to do.” His counsel gives him a warning look, and not just from his insinuation that he won’t make it to the outpost. 

Kylo senses Rey in the hallway outside. She’s hanging back, listening, but making no effort to hide her presence from him. 

Interesting. 

“But, yes, the Resistance appears to underestimate our forces and, since we have advance notice, it’ll be a slaughterfest. Which, creates implications on its own, but we can’t let Dameron undermine our legitimate relief operations. They’re vital to gaining loyalty, Supreme Leader.”

Ah, formal titles are back. Meaning Kittara also senses Rey. 

“I don’t understand,” Kylo admits, but also fully aware that Rey can hear him. “We thought that by now, the Resistance’s rank and file would be ready to lay down their arms. See the promise of peace that we’re offering. _Real_ peace, real change.”

“Balance,” Kittara confirms, her face filled with conviction. She plays her role so well.

 _They don’t know_ , Rey whispers in his mind, and Kylo almost feels guilty. He didn’t intend to use her knowledge to their advantage, he’d promised not to, but this was about lives. Too many lives. 

A leader protects his people, after all. 

_**Why don’t you come in, rather than eavesdropping in the hall?**_ He responds cooly. There’s a split second of hesitation before the door whooshes open, and Kylo turns to face Rey. 

She’s clad in an ash gray jumpsuit that hides none of her curves, and kriff, there are more fucking cutouts, triangles of tanned skin contrasting against the color of the fabric. Rey’s cheeks blush, feeling the heat of his stare and undoubtedly remembering their dream last night, and she holds her head a little higher, as if challenging him.

A wave of lust washes over him, and Kylo wills his body to behave. ‘This is getting ridiculous,’ he thinks.

He glances over at Kittara, catching the amused grin on her lips at the sight of the flustered pair. She raises an eyebrow at her Master as if to ask whether he liked the outfit, and the Supreme Leader finds himself mentally counting to ten in Alderaanian. 

Kittara Ren really is evil incarnate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, talk about a cliffhanger, eh?
> 
> Kittara is a fun new dynamic to throw in since the girl obviously speaks her mind and has Kylo's ear. I don't want her to become a focal point in the story, so she'll be bouncing in and out as needed to move the story along. Wonder how Rey's gonna like her? Will it be a death match? Or will Kylo have his two primary ladies become besties who find fun ways to torture him together? Will Kittara make Rey's insecurities reappear? Who is at the top of Kittara's kill list: Hux or Poe? Like the sands in an hourglass, these are the _Days of Our_ \- I mean, tune in next week to _Safe Harbor_ for the answers to these pressing questions, and more!


	8. Inappropriate Uses of the Force

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey finally meets Kittara Ren, Kylo's mysterious second in command, and the three of them have to work together to figure out how to keep Poe Dameron from being a total idiot and killing innocent civilians because we're obviously in some weird parallel universe. Cue tension and snark. 
> 
> Then, Rey finally gets her sparring match with Kylo, and that goes... well, exactly how we all think it will.

Kittara Ren is stunning. 

The thought burns through Rey with a wave of envy, much like it did when she spied a fellow scavenger with more portions. 

The Second Knight is shorter than Rey imagined, the crown of her head no height than Rey’s forehead (although Kittara’s heeled black boots add a few inches). Much like Leia, what Kittara lacks in height is made up for by her commanding presence. The petite Knight is clad in mostly black as is custom of First Order officers. Tight leggings disappear under an ankle length black surcoat, with long slits running up the sides to allow her easy movement during a fight. It’s a modified, more feminine version of Kylo’s, Rey recognizes, although (unfortunately) Kylo’s didn’t hug his body nearly as tight. Kittara’s is designed to show off her hourglass figure, and there’s a large cutout from the bottom of her neck to the top of her breasts, revealing the hint of a red armored corset underneath. It also shows off the Knight’s ample cleavage, making Rey all the more self-conscious of what she lacks. Kittara’s face is traditionally beautiful, almost angelic looking, pale skinned and heart-shaped. But ruby red lips and kohl lined eyes betray any softness, and her auburn hair seems to serve further warning as to her fiery temperament. 

She reminds Rey of a kind of snake on Jakku, brilliant and dazzling blue-green scales that shifted in the sun and did nothing to camouflage it in the sand. These snakes didn’t need to hide, preferring to advertise its presence and instead rely on the protection of the fatal venom delivered by its bite. 

Rey feels all of her insecurities resurfacing, despite everything she learned last night thanks to her shared dream with Kylo. Kittara Ren is what every straight human man in the galaxy dreams of, and the grace of her movements indicate good breeding. A suitable match for a prince, Rey thinks darkly. She can’t help but think that this is Kylo’s Queen, one waiting and ready to step in after Rey so foolishly rejected him on the _Supremacy_.

There’s a gentle, light tickling sensation at the back of Rey’s neck, so subtle that the Jedi thinks its the aircon at first. It takes her a few moments to realize there’s no cold breeze with it, and a couple more to realize what she’s feeling. 

With an enraged shriek, the alleged Jedi pushes the Knight out of her mind with such force that the smaller woman actually stumbles back. 

When Kittara regains her footing she looks up at Rey, grinning like a cat, her eyes practically sparkling with amusement. The look only stokes Rey’s anger, and she unconsciously reaches for her blaster for reassurance.

“Kittara,” Ben growled warningly, far less amused than his Counsel. 

_What in the Force was that, Kylo? I had my shields up tight!_ Rey asks through their Bond, bewildered. Had Ben been lying to her about the effectiveness of her shields?

“Kylo,” Kittara admonishes, her voice fake-sweet, “You didn’t warn her about me?”

Rey’s eyes narrow at the implications of her question. She wonders if his girlfriend knows about their dream last night, or if Kylo intends to keep it as some sort of dirty little secret.

The tickling sensation is back, and Rey feels the darkness swelling around her. 

“Kittara!” Kylo roars, and finally, Rey senses the Second Knight fully withdrawing from her mind. 

“What? My job is to protect you, remember?” Kittara spits back, annoyance replacing her amusement. It’s clear that she’s not satisfied by Kylo’s assurances that his Bondmate is harmless (at least to him).

“I told you: Rey. Is. Off. Limits.” 

“And I told you, I’ll play nice, and I have. But I need to make sure this isn’t a trap.”

“It’s not.”

“Yes, because your judgment when it comes to her has always been solid.” Rey’s eyes dart between the two, trying to wrap her head around just what they were playing at and oh, her head hurts now. 

“Don’t worry, Lightsider, I know all about your Bond, and all the things you’ve shared,” she says with a wicked grin, causing both Ben and Rey to blush. “And I’m not his girlfriend, far from it, although it’d be nice if the gossip rags stopped thinking that. It’s totally salting my game.”

Rey blinks at the strange woman’s outburst, not expecting such a reaction. The fact that she just blurted out everything, the bluntness, and… what was that about not being his girlfriend? 

Rey reaches out with the Force, seeking Kittara’s uniquely burning aura. She’s surprised to detect Kittara radiating honesty back at her, along with something… warm. Almost friendly. 

“I mean, do you know how hard it is to get laid when everyone thinks you’re Kylo Ren’s sidepiece?” The woman cracks, clearly trying to lift the moment and also throughly entertained by the awkwardness between the Supreme Leader and the supposed last Jedi.

 _Is she sane?_ Rey can’t help but ask.

 _ **Allegedly. She’s… Kittara.**_ Kylo’s voice sounds almost resigned in Rey’s head. 

“I’m sorry, we haven’t properly met. Kittara Ren, second Knight of Ren and Counsel to the Supreme Leader,” the woman says with a flourish, tipping her waist and kneeling into a dramatic bow. The wicked gleam and teasing smirk doesn’t leave the Knight’s face, however. 

“Rey,” is all the Jedi can manage. 

“Yeah, I figured. Unless Kylo’s collecting lost Resistance members, in which case I’m going to need a bigger clothing budget.”

“How did you get past my mental shields so easily?” Rey demands, finally slipping out of her stupor. Kittara’s smile only grows.

“Oh, Kylo, you really didn’t warn her at all, did you?” All formality disappears, and Kylo seemingly relaxes a bit in response, as if he’d been expecting bloodshed between the pair. “Its my gift in the Force, or whatever you Lightsiders call it. My talent.”

_**Manipulation. Like Snoke, just far, far more subtle and somehow with better intentions?** _

_Oh, great. I feel better now._

_**She won’t harm you, I promise.** _

_How reassuring._

“Could you guys not do that? It’s kind of infuriating for those of us on the outside.” Kittara cut in, clearly able to tell that they were communicating through their Bond. Probably because Rey and Kylo were now both staring at each other, as they usually did when they conversed with the Force. 

“Sorry,” Rey instinctually responds, then immediately feels annoyed with herself for apologizing.

“So, I hear you and I have a common enemy in Poe Dameron,” she says with a laugh. “Does he still think he’s the galaxy’s gift to women?”

Something in the room coos at Rey to relax. Perhaps its the woman’s openness, or something more sinister (Rey suspects its something another one of Kittara’s “talents”), but Rey can’t help but crack a slight smile at her words.

“Unfortunately, yes. On both accounts. I take it you know him?”

“Unfortunately, indeed. On the list of people I’m planning to kill, he and Hux are currently tied for first.” Kittara grins, and Rey feels oddly comforted by the Knight of Ren’s admission that she kept a list of people whom she was actively planning to murder. 

In fact, if Rey had such a list, she’s pretty sure the same people would be at the top.

“How did you get the pleasure of knowing Poe Dameron?”

“Let’s just say that you’re not the first person he’s betrayed,” Kittara says lightly, but there’s a flash of violence in the Force around her.

Rey decides to leave that topic alone for now, curious as she is. Best not to poke at venomous snakes when you’re in striking distance. 

“Rey, are you willing to share what you told me before you came in?” Kylo’s voice is surprisingly gentle, almost as if he’s giving her room to deflect if she chooses not to share. For a second, Rey regrets her divulgence, guilt gnawing at her insides. She’s willingly providing information on the Resistance to the Knights of Ren, for fuck’s sake. 

‘The same Resistance that betrayed you, used you as bait,’ she reminds herself. ‘Besides, you made your bed, girl. At least you might save some lives if you can find a way to divert the attack.’

Rey really hates it when that voice is right.

“Outside of leadership, no one in the Resistance knows about the First - Kylo’s efforts regarding slavery, reparations, or, really, any of it. We’re told the First Order is conquering worlds by force, using the same tactics they did under Snoke. In fact, I don’t think anyone outside of core leadership - meaning Dameron, Connix and D’Acy - really know what’s going on.”

Kittara and Kylo share a look at this, as if confirming with each other what they’d both long suspected. As Rey watches them, she is reminded of a brother and sister pair of Resistance pilots she’d observed, communicating through friendly jabs and knowing looks.

“Your information campaign isn’t working, Kits.” Kylo sighed, working his jaw again. Rey raises her eye at the nickname, as she’d never really seen Ben as a nickname type. 

“No shit,” Kittara responds, and yes, Rey decides, their repartee definitely feels more familial than romantic. 

That pesky spark of hope re-lights inside of Rey, bouncing back to life like the trick candles she and Finn put on Rose’s birthday cake last month. 

“We should find a way to holovid the attack on Otomok. Publicize it throughout the galaxy, withdraw some of our extra security to make it more obvious that its a peacekeeping mission.” Kittara’s mind is already working out a way to spin this, use it to the First Order’s advantage. 

“And sacrifice the people we’ve sent there? Send them to slaughter and risk upsetting the peace on Otomok?” Kylo snorts, rolling his eyes at Kittara. Rey can’t help but agree with Kylo, and then finds herself surprised. Not that she agrees with him (well, not really), but that his position is so… sensible. 

After all, this is the same man that slaughtered a village on Jakku three months ago like it was nothing.

Gods, this man is confusing. 

“So, we just throw our hands up when they come attack us and ask them to pretty please not kill everyone? Yeah, that’ll work.” Kittara rolls her eyes right back at Kylo. “You going Lightsider on me? Kriff, Ky, she’s only been here for a little over a day.”

That clearly rankles Ben, and a steel caf mug flies past Kittara’s head, one that she easily dodges with a flick of red hair. 

“I thought you told me to think more long term, like a leader, think about the people? Whatever happened to winning the war and not just the battle?” Kylo’s clearly throwing words back in his Counsel’s face, and Rey appreciates just how valuable a tactician like her must be in Kylo’s world. 

It’s also apparent just how little Kittara currently appreciates the impression she’s made on the Supreme Leader, as her red lips twist into a scowl. 

Rey instinctively takes a step back. She knows Kylo won’t hurt her, but she’s not so sure about the other one yet.

“I don’t hear you offering up any better ideas, Supreme Leader. Dameron’s desperate and you know it, he doesn’t give a flying fuck as long as he can call it a win against the First Order!”

“So? We slip some intelligence to Connix, let her see that its truly benign, she can talk Dameron down.” Kylo shrugs, as if the solution is simple and both women groan in response. 

“You and I both know that Connix follows Dameron. She won’t question his decision. D’Acy’s been sidelined, she’s just trying to keep things running and hoping Organa wakes up soon. Any intelligence will be a waste and jeopardizing a source.” Kittara snaps. “Is that really your plan?”

“Look, my plan is better than meeting them with the Fleet and a fight, giving them exactly the kind of propaganda they want!”

“If we end up taking out the Resistance, its a damn good plan!”

“Oh, okay, General Hux, I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there, I thought you were Kittara Ren for a moment.”

“Oh, fuck you, Kylo! How fucking dare you call me-“

“We can draw them away. Give them false information and send them on a wild goose chase. One they’re sure to follow. They don’t have enough resources to do both.” Rey blurts out, interrupting Kittara’s advance towards Ben. The two Knights of Ren immediately cease their bickering, both turning towards the brunette as if shocked by the simple brilliance of Rey’s plan. 

The almost Jedi sighs. Typical darksiders. 

“Look, Kylo, Poe wants to attack Otomok, and he thinks you’ll be there, so obviously, he’ll want to hit when you’re there. Poe can’t pass up an opportunity like that. You need to cancel your trip, make it about a security risk-“

“-And look weak?” Kylo snaps at her, and it takes all Rey has not to bristle and respond accordingly. But then Kylo’s face falls, his eyes softening into an apology as he senses the flare of hurt coming across their Bond.

“No, we let them know we know their plans. We leak it to the press. Make it look like you’re concerned about civilians winding up as collateral, especially the orphans at the attached hospital. They’ll know we have someone on the inside, but our source is secure. Besides, it’ll throw them for a loo. Once the public knows what they’re planning, those who still sympathize with the Resistance may be convinced to re-examine their loyalties.” Kittara’s spin machine is already firing on all cylinders, and Rey continues to be impressed by her.

“Right. However you want to spin it. But, to make sure they don’t try to go through with it anyways, because Poe’s a stubborn ass who can’t let things go, we bait them. Tell them you or Hux or someone will be somewhere else, or even-“

“Your ship.” Kylo finishes her thought, eyes lighting up as his brain finally pieces together Rey’s plan, their Bond putting them on exactly the same page.

“We can program it,” Rey grins.

“Put some decoys on there, someone that looks like you, you and I.”

“That seems like overkill, and a little too suspicious. Who is this apartment registered to? You said its not under your name.”

“One of Kittara’s aliases.”

“Would Poe know it?”

“Ah,” Kylo hummed, pleased, and the sound sends little sparks up Rey’s spine. 

“So we make them think Kittara and I are on the _Ackbar_ -“

“And she’s bringing you to me.”

Rey smiles at Ben, and he almost, almost smiles back. His dark eyes certainly do, warm with approval at their plotting. 

“Gods, you two are creepy.” Kittara interrupts them, annoyed again at being on the outskirts of this conversation. Rey gets the sense that the woman is not used to being on the outside of such things, and isn’t enjoying the experience. 

But Kittara seems more than pleased with their idea, especially as they continue refining the details to make it a full-fledged plan. “Look at you, already playing mind games with your enemies.” Kittara grins at Rey, and then looks at Kylo. “I kinda like her. Can we keep her? Please?”

Ben rolls his eyes. “Don’t you need to finish making our travel arrangements? And now find two decoys that look enough like you and Rey?”

“Mm, right. Rey’s going to need some additional clothes, especially for the… erm, temperature changes.” Kittara’s words drip with insinuation, and wariness pricks up Rey’s spine. 

Given how revealing Kittara’s choices have been for a temperate planet, Rey fears what she’s consider appropriate for a warmer system.

“Could you maybe, uh, find more like this, and that gray halter top? I really appreciate all that you’ve done, but I, ah, don’t really do skintight catsuits.” Rey explains, hoping Kittara’s not offended.

Rey swears she catches Ben mentally thanking the Maker for her request, but its so faint that she can’t be sure.

“Oh, honey. Hiding a body like yours is a sin, my sweet.” Kittara gives Rey an appreciative once-over, and Kylo shoots her another threatening look. “Fine, fine.” Kittara grumbles. “You guys are no fun.”

“Wait, you’re not actually buying everything yourself, are you?” Kylo asks suspiciously. “Didn’t Hux want you back on board for some review meeting by 1730?”

“Yeah, and I pulled rank and told him I was shopping for my new girlfriend. Told him she reminds me of Phas and then took a little verbal walk down memory lane. I didn’t know human skin could turn that red,” she cackles, and Rey finds her own cheeks warming at this. Kylo just rolls his eyes with another annoyed huff, clearly used to Kittara’s antics.

“Oh, and then I planted some fake evidence of a Rey sighting on Jakku and sent him to check on that personally. You know, so he can curry good favor with you. Sent Mitaka with him to keep an eye on everything. So yes, I have time to spend the First Order’s credits on the last Jedi’s wardrobe, find two decoys, coordinate the Fleet and your travel, and fantasize about murdering all who stand in my way.” Kittara chirps sarcastically, looking quite pleased with herself.

_I thought you said she was sane, Ben._

_**Allegedly, sweetheart. I said ‘allegedly’.** _

========================

He was wrong. 

From the second Rey steps back into the training room for their scheduled (and long-awaited) sparring match, Kylo knows he was wrong.

It’s not _just_ Kittara Ren that was trying to kill him, no. Clearly, she and Rey are actively conspiring to prematurely end his reign (and existence) by sheer hormonal overload and an exquisite case of blue balls. 

‘Here lies Kylo Ren, Supreme Leader of the First Order, Master of the Knights of Ren, Lost Prince of Alderaan, killed by an alleged Lightsider’s teasing and sudden need to expose every inch of skin possible,’ his mind eulogizes. 

Rey came ready for a workout, as expected, but what he didn’t anticipate was what that would mean, outfit-wise. Apparently, this meant wearing only a pair of black leggings, her normal gray arm bands, and a kriffing black sports bra that covered her chest but left her flat, muscled stomach exposed. Given as how just this morning, Rey’d asked for less revealing outfits, its a bit of a shock and Kylo can’t help but suspect that its an attempt to throw him off his game.

One that’s definitely working, he admits. 

They’re both holding metal staffs, although Rey’s is her own. Given ~~her~~ (his) lightsaber’s fractured state, as well as the high likelihood of severe bodily harm if they used real lightsabers, staffs made sense. Kylo’s confident that he’s more than proficient with one, having trained with them extensively since his first duel with Rey back on Starkiller Base.

However, now he’s going to have to truly focus or get his ass totally and completely kicked, which is not happening. She’s already bested him once, and Bondmate be damned, Kylo Ren has pride, people. 

Luckily, he’s learned to channel things like lust and passion into the Dark Side of the Force (or just ‘the Force’, according to Ahsoka but whatever), and Kylo does just that, pouring his desire for Rey into the Force and gathering it around him like a shield. He puts his staff out in front of him with his right arm, pointing it at Rey like he does with his saber. 

She circles around him, holding her own staff across her slender figure as if waiting for his attack. Her hazel eyes are wary, and he feels her clawing at his mind, trying to anticipate his next move.

 _ **Scared, sweetheart?**_ He can’t help but taunt, her eyes flash that lovely green when he does and he feels the fire ignite in her.

 _Of you? Never,_ she grins, and leaps towards him with a battle cry, staff swinging to sweep his feet out from under him. 

But he’s too fast, jumping over her staff with ease before landing back on his feet. He parries with his staff, a move she easily blocks with her own. The sound of metal on metal echoes throughout the room. 

Like Kylo, Rey fights like a street fighter rather than with the grace and footwork of a trained fencer. She shoves her staff towards his torso and he dodges, spinning his at the back of her knees. She blocks again, the clang, clang, clang of their staffs ringing out with each hit. 

He is taller and physically stronger, but she’s had years with her staff and wields it like he does his saber. There’s no clear advantage here, as Rey drives Kylo back two steps with a fierce hit, but then immediately loses her gained ground - and then some - when he retaliates with his own barrage of strikes. 

A droplet of sweat runs from Rey’s pulse point, down between her collarbones and into the small cleavage peeking out from her sports bra, distracting Kylo. It’s an unfair advantage, he can’t help but think, especially when here he is, the alleged Darksider, fighting fair.

That’s when Kylo Ren decides to stoop to Rey’s level.

First, he uses the Force to distract her by creating the sound of footsteps behind her. She turns for a half-second, staff still protecting her body as she searched before coming to her senses. 

“That was cheap,” she hissed, and Kylo only grins back. As she rights herself, he reaches out again with the Force, using an invisible hand to gently, gently trace down the skin of her exposed spine. Rey’s eyes widen and she shrieks in surprise, whirling around and away from Kylo. Before she can register what happened, Kylo lowers his staff to the ground with both hands, sweeping her booted feet out from under her. With a less than graceful cry and a loud thwack, the alleged last Jedi falls to the mats, sinking into the padded surface. 

Kylo cooly and calmly points his staff at her throat, his grin positively sinful.

“That was a cheap trick. And an inappropriate use of the Force.” she growls.

“All’s fair in love and war, sweetheart,” he sneers back. 

With whip-fast speed, her staff flies back in her hands, and she swipes at him again. It’s so fast that Kylo only has enough time to dive out of the way, tucking his body into a roll so he can look somewhat graceful in his dodge. 

They both stand back up at the same time, and begin circling each other again. Kylo’s already sweating from the exertion, and he pauses long enough to reach down and pull his own black shirt over his head, leaving his chest exposed. 

(It’s a calculated move, as Kylo remembers how she reacted to the sight of him shirtless when she caught him after training during one of their early connections, months ago. How her lovely eyes flew wide before dropping, the way she momentarily lost her train of thought.) 

Her reaction does not disappoint, eyes going wide and pupils expanding, her sweet little mouth forming a perfect “o” of surprise. Her pink tongue darts out to wet her lower lip, and her cheeks stain red again. Kylo gives himself another point in his secret game to make her blush. 

Rey charges again, swinging her staff out and forcing him to dance away, feet sliding on the smooth surface of the mat. He swings back, and again, their staffs connect, blocking and countering each blow the other gives. Clank, clank, clank. 

He eventually drives her towards the end of one mat with the sheer violence of his hits, even as she blocks each one. He can’t celebrate much though, because she suddenly uses the same Force distraction he used earlier, the _minx_ , creating the sensation of someone gently blowing in his ear.

Kylo actually shudders at the sensation, and now Rey’s the one with the wicked grin. She sweeps his feet out from under her with a triumphant crow, and Kylo hits the mats with a loud thwack. It knocks his breath away for a second, but he’s able to dodge the next blow from the butt of her staff, rolling away and onto his knees. He’s shorter than her at this position, but still able to easily swing his staff around and over his head, blocking her strike. Their staffs lock together, neither yielding as they each push against each other, mirroring how they stood with their sabers back in their first battle.

 ** _Clever girl_** , he tells her, and then gets a rather cheeky idea. Daring, even. 

Kylo uses their Bond to send Rey an image from their shared dream last night, of when he was also on her knees but making her scream in a decidedly different way. 

It’s a calculated risk to break the stalemate between them. But it works, because she’s flushing all over and her eyes glaze just the slightest, pupils dilating with want. 

The Knight of Ren then sweeps his opponent’s feet out like she’d just done to him, and the desert girl goes down. Before she can react, he’s looming over her, still on his knees, pressing his staff to her throat with the slightest pressure. For a second, Kylo thinks he can feel the weight of his staff on her neck through the Bond, as he registers the feeling of cool metal pressing against his Adam’s apple. Then it clicks that she somehow gotten her staff against his throat too, and she’s pressing a bit harder than he was. 

They stay like that, panting and dangerously close for a moment. Kylo’s flirting with unconsciousness now thanks to his airway being cut off, but he can still smell her, sweet and intoxicating, so it feels almost euphoric, heavenly. 

_Draw?_ she finally asks as black spots tickle at his vision.

 _ **Draw**_ , he agrees, and like that, he can breathe again. 

Kylo Ren really shouldn’t be as turned on as he is by all this, but he is. 

He sighs, deeply, cursing inwardly. There’s no way his erection’s going away any time soon.

This really can’t be healthy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thank you all for commenting and being so awesome and supportive. I love all of them and they keep me going, even when I'm hungover AF (like right now) and had to rally to get this edited and up. You guys are so amazing, thank you, thank you, thank you. I will keep responding to all of them and feel free to ask questions or let me know if things need to be clarified. You rock. 
> 
> (Also, sorry if I missed any errors or things seem off. I blame the tequila shots.) 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed our regularly scheduled UST (because this is a Reylo fic and the fighting in lieu of fucking trope is another favorite of mine). Fight scenes are _hard_ to write. Seriously. I hear people say that all the time but holy shit is it true. 
> 
> I know some people are worried that Kylo and Kittara do have some sort of thing, and that's not the case here. I've tried to make that perfectly clear through this chapter and even Rey's getting it now, since this ain't a love triangle fic. I love how the ST celebrates strong female characters, and I also believe that Kylo Ben responds and bonds much better with women rather than other men, which is why Kittara is Kittara. I truly believe men and women can have platonic, meaningful relationships and that's what Kittara is. (She is also a woman that speaks her damn mind and gets right to the point, which is convenient AF.) The next chapter will explore Kittara and Kylo's friendship, as well as her backstory as its important for Kylo's character development. After that, Kittara returns to the backseat for awhile so I can further explore whether blue balls can kill a man. Just a heads up for any of you wondering.
> 
> Also in the next chapter: we learn exactly how and why Leia told Poe about Kylo and Rey's Force Bond. DUM DUM DUM.


	9. Family Trees

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last time: Rey met Kittara, Kittara taunts Kylo, the three of them plot to keep the Resistance off their backs and from killing innocent people (wait, what?), and Rey and Kylo nearly self-immolate during a sexy sparring session. Rey's still curious about Kittara and her background with Kylo: who is she? Where'd she come from? Is she actually insane, or just pretending? And Kittara's still not done airing her grievances about Kylo's half-cocked plan to take Rey to Mustafar. Maybe its time Kylo actually explains a bit about his family history?

Distraction is a terrible beast when you’re the kriffing Supreme Leader secretly harboring the last Jedi. Its even worse when said Supreme Leader’s about to abscond (with said last Jedi) to go on a mission and bring balance to the Force. There’s little time to deal with all the moving parts in Kylo Ren’s life, especially if he doesn’t want to fuck any of them up. 

Which is why he’s back at his kitchen table, staring intently at the HoloPad in his hand and trying desperately not to think about Rey. 

Not about her dimples (the ones on her face or the ones he now knows she has at the bottom of her back), and how she glows when she smiles. 

Not about the delightful way he makes her cheeks flush, or how low that blush might go. 

Definitely not about that sparring session today, nope. He’d cleared that out of him with a long, ice-cold shower after and intense breathing exercises (since he was not masturbating with Rey so close and their Bond so active, blue balls be damned).

And Kylo Ren is most certainly not thinking about how his beautiful little desert rose is less than three hundred feet away, in her chamber’s bathtub, enjoying a delightfully warm and relaxing soak after their spar. 

Nope.

Not. At. All. 

He remembers how her eyes lit up when he recommended the bath after their duel this morning. She’d never had a bath, he’d figured that out from her excitement at his words. The Resistance’s bases were spartan at best, he knows from his spies. In fact, the First Order recruited one or two of them with the promises of creature comforts: a hot bath, a meal with real nerf steak, new boots, chocolate. The things a struggling left-wing fringe group couldn’t offer, the pieces of civilization people missed the most. 

But Rey never experienced these things, so she had nothing to miss, only to dream about. And oh, Kylo loves giving her new experiences, like the breakfast sweets, the fine wine at dinner last night. Showering her with finery and sensation like the empress he’d intended her to be. 

He’d sent a droid up with her to her room to show her how to draw the bath, which salts and the soaps to best relax her aching muscles. She was in heaven, she thought; he could feel her joy radiating down their Bond. He’d even seen a glimpse of her in the tub from her point of view, her slender knees sticking out of the water, dark violet and sparkling from the minerals the droid added. He saw nothing else, thankfully. If he had, he wouldn’t have been able to stop himself from tearing through the doors and taking her right there, pulling her from the tub and carrying his temptress to her bed, her body wet and naked-

No, no, no. Dammit, he was getting distracted again, and he needs to _focus_. Because if he didn’t he’d lose control and fuck everything up between them. And he’s worked too damn hard for that to happen now. 

Patience, he tells himself, and ignores the part of him that smirks, thinking how he’s never had patience before. And now that he’s sure that she wants _him_ in return, why start with that now?

He groans, pushing his hair back and out of his face while trying desperately to focus on the words of the HoloPad in front of him. ‘You have to let her come to you. She’s not ready, not until she’s ready,’ he reminds himself. The words are a mantra by this point, his overwhelming thirst for Rey only dampened by his fear and refusal of rushing her or scaring her off. 

He cannot afford to lose her again. Not now. 

So he focuses back on the HoloPad, reading through Hux’s irate grievance he’d filed this afternoon against Kittara Ren. Apparently, his Second in Command hadn’t been kidding about how she’d gotten rid of Hux after the meddling general decided to question Kittara’s trip to Coruscant, sneering that she’s supposed to be watching things for Kylo (like she’d forget). Then he’d made some undoubtedly sexist comment about women and shopping, and Kittara, being Kittara, had indeed shot back that she was actually shopping for her new girlfriend; and then insinuated that said girlfriend reminded her a lot of Captain Phasma. What Kittara neglected to mention before is that she then told Hux how she “hoped her new girlfriend could use her tongue like Phas did” - a detail Kylo really never needed to know. 

Being as how Hux still mourned Phasma, as well as his very unrequited lust for the blonde captain, he found this insinuation deeply offensive. The insult burned deeper since Hux despised Kittara (and vice versa), given that Hux hated anyone that was allied with Kylo and/or a threat to his role in the First Order, especially if that person was a woman. 

The man has issues, and coming from Kylo Ren, that’s saying something. 

As if summoned by Hux’s ire, Kylo’s comm unit chimes and he picks it up, clicking it on. 

“Supreme Leader. Kittara Ren, High Counselor of the First Order, has returned.” One of his stormtroopers, TY-1985, informed him brusquely from their station at the front door. 

“Of course, thank you, Terror.” All of his personal guards had codenames to protect their ranks and identities, ones they’d individually picked out. It also gave them a personal connection, something between only them, Kittara and the Supreme Leader. Another one of Kittara’s (annoyingly) brilliant suggestions. 

The click-click of her heeled boots on the floors reverberated down the hall, audibly announcing her presence in advance, just as her ultraviolet signature did through the Force. 

_**Kittara’s back**_ , Kylo told Rey, then adding, _**Just so you’re not alarmed**_.

_Thanks_ , she responds, and kriff, could he feel her blushing through the Bond?

Before Kylo can consider this any further, Kittara saunters into the room, giant bags weighing down her arms. She’s clearly enjoyed her task, and by the looks of it, may have gone slightly overboard. 

“Successful hunt?” Kylo asks darkly, hoping she didn’t drain too much of the First Order’s coffers. Not that he’d argue too much if she did, since it was all for Rey.

“Indeed. Hopefully, these are more her style, I realize that some of what I chose before was probably too risqué for her tastes.”

Kylo swallows, not even letting his mind guess as to what other options Rey had in her wardrobe if what she’d been wearing was the most innocent. The reaction doesn’t go unnoticed, and Kittara smiles wickedly. 

“Hux filed a grievance against you,” he informs her, abruptly changing the subject. 

“I saw. Gods, that man needs to get laid. A butt plug. Something.” His Knight rolled her brown eyes. “Or, you could just let me kill him _now_.” 

“First, you’re the one who keeps reminding me that we still need him every time I want to kill him, so, no. Second, you knew he’d react like this while bringing up Phasma.”

“That prick had no chance with a goddess like Phas and he knows it. He needs to get over it. Move on.” There’s a hardness to her eyes that belies Kittara’s flippant tone, and Kylo knows she still mourns the captain herself, in her own way. They were never serious, but Kittara always respected the Stormtrooper. There’d been a fondness between the pair that Kittara normally didn’t allow with her lovers. 

“Still, Kitts, I need him to be able to stand you enough for you to keep an eye on him, remember?” Kylo’s rebuke was gentle, as he hated Hux as much as she did. He knows Kittara’s counting the days to his comeuppance. 

“I know,” she huffs, almost childlike. “I caught him trying to question your orders to move your own kriffing flagship to Mustafar. Because that fucking little shit still thinks he has some sort of say in these things. Luckily, Peavey had already shut his ass down by the time I got there, but some forceful choking hopefully got the message across.” 

Kylo sighs, rubbing his temples with his gloved fingers. Hux still resented Kylo taking the _Finalizer_ as his flagship, making Hux’s the _Vengeance_. The _Finalizer_ had been Hux’s ship first, yes, and yes, Kylo was being a little petty in doing so. But, he did enjoy torturing the General and after all, isn’t that part of the fun of being the villain?

“I mean, I also don’t like sending the _Finalizer_ to Mustafar, but for an entirely different reason,” Kittara continued. Kylo’s eyes narrowed back, perturbed that Kittara’s bringing this argument up again. The petite redhead was uncowed, stepping closer to her Supreme Leader. 

“Kittara, I’ve taken your counsel and made up my mind on this,” he says firmly.

“No, Kylo, you’ve heard my counsel, but you haven’t truly considered it, have you?” she says pointedly. “I mean, yes, you’re right that its the best place to keep her from being found, by anyone. And yes, you’re safe there, as no idiot would dare try to attack Kylo Ren in Vader’s birthplace. But kriff, Kylo, have you considered the ramifications of bringing _her_ to Mustafar? The whole damn planet is dripping with darkness, which culminates as the castle. Not to mention the ghostly specters and intense emotions mulling about. Do you really think its safe for her?”

At this, Kylo’s eyes flash, and he straightens his back, no longer slouching forwards as he usually does. “You know I could never harm Rey.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about, Ky.” she says softly, almost melodically, and he can’t help but listen. “Look, I know its important to you, but why not take her somewhere nice? She likes trees, right? Why not Endor?” She pauses, and he doesn’t interrupt. He won’t admit she’s actually making sense, and he feels the slightest pinpricking in his awareness. He knows its Kittara, using her tricks on him, but he can’t find it in himself to care. “Or what about Cantonica? They thrive on discretion, it’s their whole business model. Or fuck, even Naboo, to your family estates if you want to feel that connection-“

“- It’s not about my family connection,” the First Knight growls, the warm blanket in his brain vanishing. For the first time in his life, he truly means it. “Besides, its a temporary stop, just until _Mirrorbright_ is ready.” he tries to sound soothing, but when its with anyone other than Rey he stumbles, the words sounding more unsure than he intended.

“Kylo. I just - she’s still virtually untrained, despite your Bond, and has such tenuous control over herself. Over her darkness. I know you feel it too, and if you truly intend to bring balance, you cannot let her fall. Bringing her to Mustafar isn’t just playing with a loaded blaster, its-“ A slight movement from the hall leading to Rey’s room causes Kittara to stop mid-sentence, and she swivels her head towards it, searching. Kylo recognizes his Bondmate’s signature before his Knight does, and he watches her hand tense towards her saber for a second before dropping to her side. 

“Rey, you have an awful habit of eavesdropping, don’t you?” Kittara calls out in a sing-song voice, all tension erased. Her red lips twist into a feral grin as Rey steps into the kitchen, tanned skin freshly scrubbed and hazel eyes gleaming with defiance. 

“When it comes to me, I believe I’m entitled to it,” Rey’s clipped Imperial accent replies. The brunette makes her way to the other side of the island, as if wanting a barrier between her and the (alleged) darksiders. Her action annoys Kylo, frustration coloring his face. 

“That’s a valid point.” Kittara grins back, and Kylo sees her pinky finger curl ever so slightly. Kittara was surely using the Force to get a read on Rey, figure out just what she heard. “Come, Miss Jedi, why don’t you join in then? Surely Kylo’s told you about Mustafar, given that you’re headed there in just a few hours?”

“I’m not a Jedi,” Rey grumbles, but she moves back out from behind the counter, walking towards their table. “And no, he hasn’t told me anything. What’s Mustafar, and why is it so important to your family?” She plops into the open chair between Kittara and Kylo, twisting towards him and giving him a confused look.

Kylo greatly prefers it to the icy glare that Kittara’s shooting him. He clears his throat, choosing his next words wisely. 

“It was… My grandfather had a castle there.”

“Oh,” is all Rey says quietly, looking down at the table. 

“Kylo - I mean, Supreme Leader, that’s not-“

“Wait, Vader also came from royalty?” Rey cuts off Kittara’s protest, not rudely. She looks lost, and Kylo can’t help but snort in response. It’s apparent that the Bond hasn’t shared his education on Darth Vader with her. 

“Hardly. My grandfather was born a slave, on Tattooine.” Rey’s eyes almost shoot out of her head with surprise. Kylo can’t help but think of the parallels between Rey’s childhood and his grandfather’s - a connection that Rey also makes, judging by the look on her face. 

“But he married a Senator-Queen!” 

“So? He was an accomplished Jedi Knight and General of the Old Republic. Titles have never meant much to my family, anyways,” he notes, thinking of his princess-mother and her smuggler husband with a stab of guilt and remorse. 

Rey shoots him something like a nervous smile, almost schoolgirlish in its sweetness. Kylo’s heart sputters and he finds himself entranced.

“Um, Supreme Leader? Kind of forgetting a key part of Vader’s connection to Mustafar here.” Kittara snaps him back to Coruscant, her tone radiating displeasure. If he could hear into her mind, he’s pretty sure he’d see her imagining him on his knees, gasping for breath as she Force-choked him, screaming “HOW THE FUCK DID YOU NOT TELL HER?!?”. 

At least, that’s what her eyes are saying.

Kriff, he’s thankful he’s not Bonded to Kittara Ren.

“Be-Kylo?” Rey asks gently, catching herself from using his birth name in front of Kittara. Kylo sighs, working his jaw back and forth before elaborating.

“Mustafar is a lava planet, historically used for mining. It also happens to be where Anakin Skywalker truly became Darth Vader after being nearly burned to death during a duel with his old Master, Obi-Wan Kenobi.” He pauses, noting Rey’s eyes widening to the size of dinner plates. “During this duel, he was tricked into believing that his pregnant wife, Padmé Amidala, betrayed him. In a fit of jealous rage, he attacked her. Darth Sidious, better known as Emperor Palpatine, made Vader think he killed Padmé and their unborn twins. Palpatine built Vader’s castle for him on Mustafar, right where Anakin Skywalker truly died, to remind Darth Vader of who he truly was and that he had nothing left in the light.” Kylo delivers the tale almost-robotically, as if distancing himself from the facts and obvious parallels between Snoke’s machinations, had they come true. Rey’s eyes are still wide, and she breathes in with a shudder, as if seeing the whole thing play out before her eyes. 

“Because of this, Rey, there’s a lot of Darkness on the planet. Pockets of extreme emotions, as if the land itself can’t forget the memory of what happened there. Darksiders, like Kylo and myself, have used it to strengthen our connection with that side of the Force. So you can imagine how it could affect someone who is very strong in the Force, yet untrained.” Kittara steps in, no longer willing to wait for Kylo to explain her concern. Given what Ahsoka’s said, Kylo’s not worried.

“I see,” is all Rey says, closing her almond-shaped eyes as if trying to block out any other thoughts. Kylo feels her emotions swirling around her, and he wishes he could read her mind now. He curses himself for teaching her how to shield her thoughts.

So instead, and on a bit of a whim, Kylo lowers his shields and opens his thoughts to hers. He shows her why he chose Mustafar, how he feels it is the only current location where they can both be safe from the outside world. How he intends to keep their visit short, a stopover, just long enough for Kittara to throw off the scent of any spies, bounty hunters, or adverse parties before. His shuttle will be there, they can flee immediately if they need, his flagship above as a place of last refuge. 

Most importantly, Kylo lets Rey see his true intent, his promise that if she starts to fall, if Mustafar proves too much for her, he’ll be there to catch her, bring her back if needed. 

Kittara’s knowing eyes scream “unfair advantage!” at him, and Kylo stops himself from smirking. 

Rey’s eyes snap open, confusion gone. They’re resolved, calm, warm amber, and Kylo wants to climb inside them.

“I trust you,” Rey says to him, her tone reminding Kylo of his mother’s when she’s made up her mind. Rey’s hand brushes over the top of his, sending a shock of heat up his arm. 

“Then the matter’s resolved.” Kylo says with an air of finality, almost daring Kittara to challenge the two of them.

“Kriff,” the Second Knight groans, rolling her eyes. “ _Fine_.”

Kylo almost smiles with relief.

“But, for the record, I have a bad feeling about this,” Kittara snaps, causing Kylo’s half-grin to vanish. Now its his turn to groan, creasing his brow in frustration. 

“For fuck’s sake, why’d you have to say _those_ words?” he bemoans, as if now a dead man walking. 

Kittara responded with a smirk, crossing her arms across her chest. The brat knew exactly what she did, and Kylo mentally cursed her in every language he knew. Kittara’s smirk only grew wider, as if she could hear what he was saying. Before the tension could boil over, she abruptly rose from her chair, turning to look at Rey.

“C’mon, Lightsider, lemme take a look at your ship.”

=======================

Kittara Ren must be fucking insane. 

Rey’s sure of that as she stares the redhead down, from across the small main quarters of the _Ackbar_. Their eyes are locked in an unspoken battle, Kittara holding her own with her head slightly tilted up to accommodate her short stature, dark eyes cold and probing. A drip of sweat trickles down Rey’s forehead, hazel eyes flashing as she focuses on watching the Knight of Ren, keeping her mental shields up, and not breaking eye contact. 

And then Kittara tosses her hair back and laughs, her shoulders shaking with amusement. 

“Oh, my sweet girl, you have _nothing_ to be jealous of,” she purrs, sliding onto one of the dining benches. She gestures at Rey, whose mouth is hanging open like a fish on land, to do the same. The shell-shocked Jedi does, taking the opposite bench across the built-in dining table before remembering that the _Ackbar_ was still technically her ship. 

Then again, Kittara didn’t seem like the type bothered by silly things like ownership. 

“What do you - wait, how did you? Did you get past my shields again?” Rey cried out incredulously, wondering how it was possible for the demon woman before her to do that when not even Kylo could -

“Not since we met this morning. You’re a fast learner, Lightsider.” Kittara grins, a genuine one that surprises Rey. She’d thought (until very recently) that Darksiders were forbidden from smiling. “No, I haven’t penetrated your mental shields again. But what I saw, plus just watching you and your body language, was more than enough. Remember, my talents with the Force all lie here,” she grins again, tapping her gloved index finger against her temple. 

“Oh,” is all Rey can say, nodding her head as if understanding exactly what Kittara was prattling on about. 

“Let me make this perfectly clear: Kylo and I are strictly friends. He is, essentially, the only family I have left, and I would die for him and happily kill for him, although really, that last part’s not saying much. There’s no sexual history, no attraction, nada. So whatever scenarios you’ve dreamed up there have zero merit. We clear?”

Guppy-fish Rey is back. Kriff, her mouth must be about to hit the table, its hanging open so wide. 

“On a semi-related note, I’m satisfied from my little foray into your mind this morning that you’re not here to kill him, betray him, trick him or trap him, which I appreciate as I don’t think I want to kill you. It’d be messy, and I’d probably lose a limb. However, I want to make something perfectly clear, Rey: you try any of those things, you hurt him again, I _will_ dismember you slowly and with a song in my heart. Got it?”

Rey nods, dumbly, wondering just who the Hell this woman in front of her was. Did she speak to Ben so abruptly?

“Shields are slipping, Jedi Girl, and yes, I do. I’m really good at bullshitting and entendres, but that doesn’t mean I like it.” She shrugs her shoulders as if casually discussing the weather. “Probably why Kylo and I get along. Also probably why Snoke hated me.”

The mention of the former Supreme Leader snaps Rey out of her trance. 

“Kittara, what happened with you and Snoke? Kylo told me all the other Knights of Ren died, but you… left?” Rey’s nose scrunched with confusion. 

“Not so much left as fled, my dear.” Kittara’s eyes scanned the _Ackbar_ lazily, but Rey knew the action to be deliberate, calculated. “When we left the Academy after Luke attacked Kylo, we followed him to Snoke. He’d reached out to us before, been grooming us, priming us like he did Kylo, but to nowhere near the same extent. Some of us were more hesitant than others to join Snoke, but when you’ve just fought and killed half of the Force-sensitives in the Galaxy, you really don’t have a lot of options. 

“At first, it wasn’t so bad. Snoke only really wanted Kylo, because ‘Heir of Vader’ and all that,” Kittara made finger quotes around the “Heir of Vader” part, “but in order to keep Kylo, he needed us in the beginning. We trained in the Dark Side, under his tutelage. At first, he was especially interested in me, hoping to use me as our talents were more similar, unique. But the problem was that Snoke, frankly, exaggerated his powers using technology and mind-games, and you can’t win at mind-games when you’ve never truly been tested by someone with the same skills as you.” At this, Kittara smiles darkly. “Needless to say, I became increasingly suspicious of Snoke as the years went on.

“Eventually, Snoke started to tire of the Knights of Ren. He had Kylo as the perfect little slave, or so he thought, and decided it was time to start eliminating us. And of course, that disgusting little fuck made Kylo do it.” Kittara’s gloved hands ball into fists, fury tainting at her voice. “He set them up, making Kylo think the other Knights were working against the Order, betraying him. Snoke knew that when it came to Kylo, betrayal was a helluva motivator, and it worked. First, Kinait, then Kaedus, then Keile, then Kito. But by Kito, Kylo had started to catch on. You see, Snoke’s biggest mistake was never realizing that when you teach a child from day one to trust no one, they unsurprisingly trust no one - not even you. So Kylo doesn’t actually kill Kito, meaning Snoke sent an assassin to finish him off. Snoke’s furious, he tortures Kylo and then demands Kylo make it up to him by -“

“Killing you,” Rey whispers. She can see it through their Bond, the desperation, the pain as Snoke shoots burning blue veins of electricity at Kylo, his anguished screams as the pain runs through his body, sucking away every bit of moisture and drilling into his brain. She hears that monster’s voice, ordering him to kill Kittara Ren, the sinking pit of dread in Kylo’s stomach at the words. Him begging Snoke to spare her, the last Knight of Ren outside of him, while picturing a little redheaded girl in his head, staring out at him from behind bars as she took a candy from his outstretched palm. 

_Rey could hear Snoke’s infuriated roar at Kylo’s begging, more shocks barreling through his body, convulsing. “You! You are destined to lead not just the Knights of Ren, but survive them and you turn it down! Your sentiment, your compassion for your Knight has sullied you, weakened you. Pitiful boy. I wasted all my time, thinking you, you would be a true heir of darkness like your grandfather. Pathetic.” Rey’s heart breaks as she feels how the worlds shatter Kylo, always looking for someone to love him and need him like he needed them. Anger flared through her, her mind violent._

_She watches Kylo leave the throne room, masked and saber in hand. He uses his pain to strengthen himself, girding himself as he approaches Kittara’s door. It opens for him, revealing her kneeling on the floor. Waiting for her executioner._

_“Kittara,” he’d whispered, and she looked up, tears flooding her brown eyes but resolve painted on her face._

_“Do it, Kylo. Do it, or he’ll kill us both. I know what he asked of you. So just do it.”_

_“No.” Kylo stops, refusing to draw his blade. He’s resolved, resolute. He’ll do anything for Snoke, for the Dark, for his destiny, but something deep and ancient tells him this, this cannot be one of them._

_“Kylo!” She yelled, lunging forward to grab not at him, but at his saber. He put his hand out, stopping her with the Force, pushing her back and locking her into place._

_“Kriffing, Kylo, stop! Please! One of us has to make it out of this alive, Snoke will kill you -“_

_“No, he won’t” Kylo says, and he believes it. Oh, he knew he’d burn for this, that the torture will be beyond painful, but Snoke won’t kill him. Can’t kill him. Don’t ask him how he knew that, but he just did._

_“Dammit, Kylo,” Kittara breaks free of his Force hold, lunging to her feet. She calls her saber from across the room, igniting the crimson blade. It illuminated her face, drowning her in blood red light._

_“Kittara, you need to leave. Get out of here. Go to ground, hide, do whatever you have to do, but I won’t kill you and he won’t kill me.”_

_“He’ll fucking torture you as close as he can, Kylo! Fuck, you can’t do this! I won’t let you!” She challenged him with her saber, trying to raise his ire and get him to draw his own. But for once in his life, Kylo feels almost… calm. The Force whispers to him, telling him she must live, there are plans for her. A loyal friend, the glimpse of a dream, a throne._

_Kylo Ren reaches up, removing his helmet so he can see his best friend with his own eyes, one last time. His protector, his partner in crime, the first person to come running, ready to defend when Kylo woke up to his uncle’s saber above his neck._

_He’ll repay her loyalty in kind. At least, for now._

_“Kittara. Go. Please.” His voice wavers for a moment, and he looks at her in desperation. He won’t kill her, and he won’t let Snoke kill her. She’s protected him so many times, too many to count. ‘Dammit, Kittara, let me protect you just this once!’_

_“You need to protect Ellie,” he reminds her cooly, knowing it’ll work. No matter how the darkness consumed Kittara, no matter her loyalty to Kylo Ren, he knew she’d die for Ellie first. Kittara’s face crumbles at the name, gasping a protest. He watched her reach out with the Force, searching, seeing. Of course, she couldn’t, even with skills like hers._

_“Snoke sent Hux to track her down,” Kylo says softly, and Kittara’s eyes widen with horror. If the redhead’s skin could pale any further, it would._

_“Kylo,” is all she says with a sob, realizing that her worst nightmares were coming true and it would all be for nothing if Hux got a hold of Ellie. But Kittara Ren isn’t much of a crier, so within seconds her honey eyes are flashing with fire and the promise of death, her red lips pressed into a line._

_“Go,” he says, but Kittara steps towards him. She ever so softly touches the sleeve of his arm, craning her neck to look at the man she considered her brother._

_“Kylo, you need to know - I had a vision. I knew you were coming, the Force told me, it showed me. It showed me many things, but I need you to know, by saving me, you’re damning yourself. Snoke will never truly trust you again, and he will break you in much crueler ways.”_

_Kylo nods curtly, unsurprised by this. He’s not sure what else Snoke can take from him, outside of his friends that made his family, but he knows Snoke will find something._

_“But, Kylo, one of those paths, one of them, I saw it and you, you in the end, you bring him down. You take the throne, you, the rightful heir; finally achieving what Vader never could. I saw it, in a vision, you, and a girl, and you fight like one.”_

_This revelation does shock Kylo, so much that he actually stumbles back, his massive frame banging into the wall. It’s cold and delivers a fresh round of pain to his burnt back, but not as cold as the possibility of him as Supreme Leader._

_Him and … a girl. Some girl._

_‘The girl from our dreams?’ a tiny piece of him asks hopefully, that damned bit of Light in him that just won’t die._

_He feels a pressure in his palm and looks down to see Kittara’s gloved hand pressed in his. She’s giving him a cheeky grin, and he can see her plotting, planning._

_“I can’t wait to come back and serve you once you ascend, Ky. That’s a promise. Now,” she pauses, and he nods._

_“Make it look real, Kitts. He won’t buy it for long, but that should give you enough time to get away.”_

_She gives him a small, sad smile. “May the Force be with you, Kylo Ren.”_

_And then she raises her hands, and Kylo can see the room falling apart before the sweet sleep of unconsciousness takes him away._

Rey falls out of the flashback with such power that her whole body actually jolts. She’s gasping for breath, as if the darkness consuming that memory sucked the wind from her lungs. 

“Well, that’s way easier than having to retell it to you,” Kittara says non-chalantly. “Although, I gotta say, darlin’, that’s one Hell of a Force Bond you two have. And to think that wannabe Snoke tried to take credit for it.” She chuckled. “Still, never thought I’d see the kriffing Force playing matchmaker.”

Rey blinked at this last part. She’d figured long ago that Snoke didn’t create their Bond, theorizing it happened when he tried to interrogate her on Starkiller Base and she’d returned the favor. But the Force using the Bond to play matchmaker?

“Shields up, love, you’re screaming again and giving me a headache.” 

Rey blushed in embarrassment, she’d been doing so well but the shock of Kittara’s bluntness and Kylo’s memory knocked her off balance. “Sorry,” she mumbled. 

“’S no problem,” Kittara grinned, then paused, her face softening, becoming more serious. “I’m sure you know that the Light inside Kylo, Ben, whatever you want to call him, it never died. He could never truly detach, he’s not wired that way. That’s why it took twenty-four years for him to fall, despite Snoke living in his head, calling him a monster and telling him he’s destined for Darkness. That’s why Snoke had to drive away, kill the other Knights; why he had Kylo kill his father. Why Kylo did such dark and wicked things. His light haunted him, and Snoke knew if he lost Kylo Ren he’d lose the war. Snoke exaggerated his power, his strength came from his power over Kylo and you broke it. You freed him.” Kittara’s dark eyes almost look glassy, and she looks at Rey with what one could describe as gratitude. 

“Snoke didn’t create your Force Bond. He wasn’t powerful enough, and frankly, he wasn’t dumb enough. Why do you think he wanted Kylo to kill you?”

Rey nods slowly, not quite able to form the right words to describe how she was feeling. She knows Kittara’s right, she’d felt it, seen it, through her Bond with Ben Solo. 

“You know, it’s funny, how Kylo likes to talk to you about letting go of your past. He’s really got no room to talk,” Kittara muses, raising an eyebrow at Rey. Rey can’t help but chuckle, as it’s quite true and frankly maddening, Ben’s hypocrisy when it comes to their pasts. 

“But, Rey, he’s right in a way. You can’t kill your pasts, and you can’t forget them. You’ll always carry your scars. But you both need to find a way to move past them. You can’t let them rule your lives.” Rey jerks her eyes back up to Kittara’s, startled by the turn in conversation. 

“You can’t let your family’s past, your parents’ mistakes, rule your future.” She looks at Rey, locking eyes with her. It’s almost hypnotic, her stare, as if she’s boring into Rey’s very soul. 

“I- I don’t-“

“You do. One thing you’ll have to learn is how to trust. You’ll both have to learn it,” she notes with a small, sad smile. “But you’re going to have to learn not to run the moment you disagree with him, or his plan. You automatically thought the worst, back on the _Supremacy_ , with his admittedly artless and badly-worded proposal. Didn’t you?”

“I didn’t - I - He was going to destroy the Resistance Fleet! My friends were on those transports, Kittara!” Rey finally finds the words she needs, indignation flaring. “And he knew, he should’ve known I’d never join the Dark Side-“

“Ah, there it is, my dear. You assumed he was proposing you join him in the Dark. But knowing what you know now, do you really think that’s what he meant?” Kittara asks, and Rey stops. She searches herself, actually looking and sorting through all she knew about Kylo Ren now, and comes to a heartbreaking conclusion.

“No. I don’t. Not anymore.” Rey’s voice comes out as a whisper, and the hot heat of tears bite at her eyes. 

“But you assumed, and you ran. You almost lost him, Rey. His light almost died that day, and its only for the fact of his sheer stubbornness that it didn’t.” Rey knows Kittara’s intentions aren’t to hurt her, but her words still sting. She feels a tear trail down her cheek.

“But the Fleet!” Rey remembers, as if trying to convince them both that her actions were justified.

“That’s where learning how to negotiate comes in, Rey. You have many ways of persuading him, and I hate to admit it, he’d do almost anything you ask. All I’m asking is that you try to stop defaulting to assuming the worst about him the moment you disagree. To not immediately run, to try to talk it out and negotiate, because I don’t know if he’ll survive you leaving him again, Rey.” The redheaded woman looks at the brunette with such conviction that Rey can’t help but nod again, fully under Kittara’s spell. Rey knows that for once, it’s not Kittara using the Force to manipulate her. No, its Kittara’s honesty and fear behind her words, and the care she holds for Ben Solo. Rey sees all of this, clear as day, and suddenly understands just how important Rey is to Kylo Ren. 

It’s frightening and exciting and lovely and maddening all at once, and Rey’s glad Kylo’s not on the _Ackbar_ himself or else she might end up actually throwing herself into his arms.

(It also shows just how badly he bungled his offer on the _Supremacy_ ; all Rey’d gotten out of it was that he thought she was nothing, no one, when in fact he meant the exact opposite. He really needs to learn some people skills.)

Kittara then asks about the controls for the _Ackbar_ , deftly changing the subject before Rey gets too lost in her self. It’s as if Kittara sensed that Rey was backed into an emotional corner. Rey sees why Kylo has her as his counsel: her intuitive nature and Force skills make her a natural strategist. She’s playing three-dimensional dejarik while everyone else is still trying to figure out how to make the pieces move; something which must be incredibly helpful when dealing with the First Order. 

Rey shows her the killswitches she’d installed, as well as the cargo hold. There’s a twinge of guilt that burns through her at not leaving the cargo somewhere safe, as she knew how precious it was for the Resistance. Then she thinks that had Kylo come and taken the bait, there was a good chance her ship would be destroyed as well as the cargo. That cleanses her of her shame.

Rey learns that after leaving the First Order, Kittara went to ground on Corellia of all places, before falling in with some smugglers and bounty hunters and taking up that trade. Again, her specific set of skills made her an excellent bounty hunter, as well as her “complete and utter lack of morals” (her words). One day, one of her jobs leads her to Ahsoka Tano, and she decided to return once completing her mission to see what the old Togruta can tell her. While she’s there, she feels Snoke die and knows Kylo’s taken the throne, so she returns to his side as she promised. Starts helping him rebuild the First Order into something worth leading. That’s when she gets the Holocrons and the instruction to deliver them to Supreme Leader Kylo Ren, telling him to wait to watch them till he’s with Rey. 

Rey’s head spins with questions for Kittara, but she gets the feeling that the chatty woman only reveals what suits her and nothing more. Instead, she files those questions away for Ben to answer. 

Rey’s hand brushes over the Ackbar’s comm screen, and she knows she should delete all of them before she hands the ship over to the First Order. She’d already wiped the nav system of all her prior trips, as she was angry but not a monster. Most of the comms were wiped on her way here, but there’s seventeen new ones since she landed.

Most of them are from Poe. 

Curious, Rey presses one of the older ones, and Poe’s voice crackles through the ship.

“Rey, come on, shit. I know you’re mad, I fucked up, I know, but it’s Kylo Ren. Rey, this is bigger than all of us and you have to understand. Just… answer me Rey. That’s an order.”

The command makes Rey’s anger flare; the world turns red for a second. Behind her, she hears Kittara snort derisively. 

“Palpatine’s nutsack, that ass is full of himself.”

“I really want to know what he did to piss you off so much.”

“Let’s start with ‘existing’, for now,” Kittara responds darkly. Rey draws up a later comm from Poe, finding the last one actually helped strengthen her resolve. 

“Gods dammit Rey, we know you’re on Coruscant. You’re with him, aren’t you? Is that why you didn’t tell us? Did he do something to you? Manipulate you, trick you? Make you think you’re in love with him?” She can practically see Poe breathing in deeply, calming his anger before continuing, his voice smooth and sultry over the audio. “Rey, I know you wouldn’t betray us on your own. I know he tricked you, its okay. Come home. You’re not in trouble, I promise, just come back and we’ll work this all out.” Rey flicked the comm off, her anger pooling into her stomach, making her heart pump with adrenaline. That arrogant bastard…

“The fucking nerve of that jackass, who the fuck does he think he is?” Kittara seems just as pissed on Rey’s behalf, although Rey’s getting the sense that anything Poe does enrages the Knight. 

_Definitely_ some serious personal history there. 

The Bond starts to hum with that persistent tug in her mind, meaning Kylo’s close. She feels his concern, his worry for her over the range of emotions she’d been throwing out over the last few minutes, and Rey hears the clacking of his boots against the _Ackbar’s_ gangway before Kittara does. 

“Supreme Leader,” she hears Kittara greet him. 

“Don’t tell me you’re the reason why she’s mad,” he says warningly, and Rey feels her temper melting away, replaced with something warmer and happier over his concern. 

“Nah, she’s listening to Poe Dameron’s pathetic comms begging her to come back. Did you know you seduced her into being bait for yourself? I guess Dameron’s seen those pretty eyes of yours,” Kittara cackled, and Rey waits to hear a choking sound.

It doesn’t come. Instead, she senses Kylo approaching her from behind, and then feels the heat of his hand on her shoulder. She feels his question in the gesture, his worry for her apparent.

Instinctively, she reaches up and grabs his hand in response, holding it there, bare skin on black leather. She hopes the touch tells him she’s okay.

As always, the feeling of Ben touching her makes her skin hot, gloved or ungloved. 

Rey forces herself to focus on continue deleting the comms, refusing to open the three Finn sent her. Poe’s betrayal was one thing, but Finn’s… Her first friend, her brother. Finn’s treachery hurt like a saber through the gut,

As the queue clears itself one by one, she sees a new one appear at the end of the list. This one’s from today, and its not from Poe or Finn. It’s listed as from the _Millennium Falcon_ , and Rey knows immediately who its from. 

Chewie. 

Before she even thinks about the company she’s in or the implications thereof, she clicks on the message, opening it. Its audio only, as were the others, and Rey is thankful for this as the first mournful howls of Shyriiwook fill the tiny cockpit. 

“Sunshine,” Chewie howls, “I hope you’re okay. I can’t - they’re idiots. Absolute morons, if Leia was awake she’d murder them herself. I almost did, I was furious for you, what they did to you. I dislocated Poe’s shoulder when I found out what he did.”

Rey swears she’s not a violent person, but the image of Chewie, snarling and furious while advancing on a stammering Poe brings a dark smile to her face. 

She feels Ben’s hand tighten around her shoulder, and she brings her hand back up to cover it, squeezing reassuringly. 

“Sunshine, Rose told me everything. She’s pissed as Hell too, she’s moved into the Falcon to get away from Finn. I am so sorry. If I’d known, I would’ve -“ Rey can see how Chewie must’ve shaken his head, cutting himself off from that trail of thought. The Wookie had never been much for ‘what ifs’. 

“They’re idiots, and they betrayed you and the General. She’d woken up from her coma, briefly, was delirious, apparently. Instead of getting you or I, Dameron sat with her. She thought he was Ben. She started talking to him about you and Ben, the Bond. She had no idea it was Dameron. And he let her believe, used it against you and Leia’s son, Sunshine. I’m just glad he’s not like his father, Han would’ve fallen for that trap in a heartbeat.” Chewbacca’s tone turned playful at the end, a brief moment of levity. But then it sobered as he continued.

“Sunshine, I knew, I knew about your connection with him. I knew since you had me deliver you to - to him on the _Supremacy_. I never said anything because I was too busy hoping with Leia that you’d bring him home. Now, Dameron’s ruined that for her.”

Ben’s Force signature is a swirl of emotions at this point, but Rey can’t bring herself to stop the recording. 

“I know you’re with him, Rey,” Chewie says softly, as soft as Shyriiwook can be. “I’m glad you are. He needs you, I think. I know you’ll be safe with him. Tell my nephew… tell Ben thank you, for what he did for Kashyyyk. Tell him I’ll keep his mother safe, I promised Han I would. Just please, Sunshine, stay safe.”

There’s a brief pause, as if Chewie was listening to something, and Rey recognizes the distant sound of Rose’s voice in the background. “Chewie, Finn’s coming. I’ll try to stall him.”

“No, Little One, I don’t want him upsetting you. I’m almost done.” Chewie must’ve turned back to his commlink, because his voice sounds closer now. “May the Force be with you, Sunshine.”

The comm cuts off, and Rey feels something wet on her chin. She reaches up and realizes that she’s crying, tears running down the side of her face. She’s glad Kylo’s blocking Kittara’s view, she doesn’t feel ready to let the other woman see her tears. 

She looks up, and Ben’s face is stoic, focused on her while his brown eyes churn with emotions like guilt, remorse, concern, fear, regret. 

_**Are you alright?** _

_I think so. You?_

_**I… I feel a bit relieved. I can’t tell if its yours or mine, but I think it’s both of ours?** _

_It is_ , Rey admits, relief at knowing that not all of the Resistance plotted against her. Most importantly, she knows that Leia never betrayed her. 

Maybe one of her childhood heroes would end up living up to the legends, and not a disappointment.

She reaches out for Kylo and feels that his relief is for the same reason as hers. The idea of his mother’s betrayal must have been another stab in the back for him, making it easy to repress but still painful. The look in his eyes tells her that he’s only just now realizing how much it hurt, and something else at the knowledge that his mother still held some sort of hope for him. 

Rey knows that Ben’s emotions are overwhelming, they’re making her head spin and she’s not even the one holding them. He’s withdrawing into himself, she thinks, and desperately searches for a way to hold him to her.

“Fifty credits, Supreme Leader.” Kittara’s hand shoots out in front of Kylo, and his eyes snap into the present, looking down and narrowing.

“Are you serious right now?”

“Mmm-hmm. Fifty credits. A bet is a bet.” Her tone is light, teasing, and Kylo pulls out his credit chip with a curse, glowering at his Second Knight’s outstretched hand. 

Kittara makes eye contact with Rey and winks. It becomes crystal clear to Rey what the likely-deranged woman is doing: she’s distracting Kylo, pulling him out of his emotional squall by stoking his annoyance, just enough to overpower the rest of the storm. She knows he hates being wrong, how much it truly rankles him. By drawing his attention away from his churning feelings surrounding his mother, Kittara strokes his anger but also calms him down. 

Most people wouldn’t dare make themselves the focus of Kylo Ren’s ire, but Kittara willingly throws herself into it. 

‘Because she knows he won’t hurt her. She trusts him,’ her mind whispers. And it makes sense. Even at his darkest, Kylo’s spared the women he cares about. Leia, Kittara and Rey are living evidence of this. And Kittara knows time is of the essence with their plans, she - no, they - can’t afford Kylo breaking down right now. Better to risk him being pissed at her.

It dawns on Rey just how important this small woman is to the Supreme Leader’s stability. 

“A bet?” Rey asks with a raised eyebrow, playing along with the redhead’s scheme.

“Yup. I bet Kylo fifty credits that Leia Organa didn’t intentionally let the Bond slip to Dameron. Frankly, I figured there was some drugging involved, but…” the redhead shrugged.

“You cheated. You used the Force to see it, didn’t you,” Kylo growled accusingly. 

“That’s not how the Force works!” Kittara retorted. Eager to not be stuck between two bickering Knights of Ren, Rey attempted to squeeze past them, back into the main cabin. 

Ben’s hand brushed her wrist as he reached to stop her. Startled, Rey stumbled, smacking into Kittara’s shoulder. 

The world around Rey shuddered, twisting and fading until she was somewhere else. She’s standing in a spartan corridor, metal and dark, with barred doors on either side of them. She recognized the scene from earlier, one of the flashes in Kylo’s mind when he sent Kittara away. 

One of Ben’s memories, she thinks, and then stops.

No, not just Ben’s.

_Rey sees a small, pale boy with a mop of frizzy dark curls standing before one of the cells. Ben, she knows. He can’t be any more than six years old, clad in a blue sweater and tan slacks. His hand is outstretched, between the bars, with two pieces of candy in them, the sugary red squares glistening in the low light._

_Behind the door stands a somehow more pale girl with dark eyes and bright red hair, about the same age as Ben. As a child, Kittara Ren looks almost cherubic with her heart-shaped face, but there are dark circles under her eyes. She’s dressed in a plain brown jumpsuit three sizes too big for her scrawny frame, and she’s looking at Ben with awe, as if unbelieving of the vision before her._

_It’s a look of hunger, the disbelief of a starved child. One Rey knows all too well, and her heart lurches for the little girl._

_Something moves behind Kittara, a smaller, chubby little hand grasping onto her side. Rey sees an even younger girl with strawberry blond hair and light blue eyes peering out, fading freckles covering her cheeks._

_“Ellie, no,” Kittara chides the younger girl, moving to protect her._

_“It’s okay, I won’t hurt you. I promise,” Ben says slowly, carefully. He moves his hand towards Kittara ever so slightly, as if luring a timid cat out from a hidey-hole._

_Kittara warily looks at him, then the candy, then him again. She slowly takes the two pieces, not wanting to seem greedy, and gives the younger girl in her cell one._

_“You have the Force like me, don’t you?” Ben says. Kittara’s face goes whiter, if that was even possible, her eyes growing wide. Ben recognizes the look, one he’s painted his own face with many times when his powers got him in trouble. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell!” he said hurriedly._

_He’s so eager to have a friend, someone like him and a real friend, not the terrible voice in his head that tells him he’s alone._

_Kittara tentatively nods in response._

_“Amara’s special! I’m not special like she is, but she can do things! It’s fun, but we can’t let the guards find out, they’ll get-“_

_“Ben?!?” Leia calls out frantically from down the hall, and the proud look on Ellie’s face vanishes. She retreats, half pushed behind her by Kitta- no, Amara. Ben snatches his hand back, away from the bars of the cell doors, with a guilty look and puppy dog eyes._

_“Force, Ben, you scared me, baby! What are you doing back here? Are you okay?” a younger Leia, slight and truly the mythical princess here, practically throws herself down onto her knees to check on her son. Her brown eyes are warm and tender with concern. She’s dressed in a high-necked, structured white surcoat that reaches just above her ankles with gold embroidery down the two open sides in the front and tanned slacks peeking out from underneath. Her hands grip Ben’s small shoulders, pulling him towards her, and she wraps him in her arms. “Ben, sweetie, I thought I told you to stay with -oh!” Leia’s eyes meet Amara’s, and they widen with shock and alarm. She clenches Ben a little closer to her, as if protecting not just him but herself._

_“Sweetheart, hi. How did you get in that cell?” Leia asks gently. Suspicion coats Amara’s face, and she steps half back, keeping Ellie fully behind her. From her vantage, Leia can see the other child in there, and Rey sees the horror in the Senator’s eyes._

_“It’s okay, Mama, she’s like me. Like us.” Ben whispers, pulling on his mother’s braided loop._

_“You said she wouldn’t tell!” Amara hissed, alarmed._

_“She’s like us too, it’s okay. Mama won’t hurt you, right, Mama?” Ben looks at his mother with such trust and it breaks Rey’s heart._

_“Of course I won’t hurt them, baby. I promise. Right now I just want to get you girls out of that cell. What’s your name, sweetie?” She coos at Amara. Amara is unmoved, and glowers back at the princess._

_Ellie, however, bounces forward before her cellmate can stop her. “I’m Ellie! I’m four and this is my sister, Amara. Are you really special like her? You look special.”_

_“Ellie!” Amara hisses, terror evident on her face._

_“It’s okay, Amara. I’m not here to hurt you or Ellie, I promise. You’re being a very good big sister, protecting her.” Leia says reassuringly._

_“Senator!” A booming voice calls out, and Leia turns, as does Ben, allowing Rey to see what looked like a male guard running up towards the duo. He stops, reaching Leia, panting from exertion._

_Amara and Ellie slowly back away from their door, towards the shadows of their cell._

_“Senator Organa, I don’t know what happened, I must’ve lost you, I’m so-“_

_“Captain Denak,” Leia says with an iciness Rey’s never heard before. It’s similar than the tone she used to dress down cocky pilots, but there’s much more danger to it this time. “Please explain to me why there are two small children in this cell, dressed in prisoners’ outfits?”_

_Captain Denak does not value his life, Rey thinks, because he puffs up his chest and practically preens at the question. “Senator, these two ‘girls’ are the children of high-ranking Imperials. Of course we have them detained, all family members of the captured major players are also imprisoned and kept securely.” The words are meant to reassure the petite woman, but it does nothing to calm her ire. Leia’s eyes flash and little Ben Solo clutches the skirt of her robe tightly, as if enraptured by his mother’s anger._

_“Captain. Are you telling me that these two children, not even ten years old, have been taken prisoner for their parents’ crimes and are being held without the Senate’s knowledge?”_

_“No, no, Senator! We’ve been authorized by General Flynt, he’s the one that created the order. I thought… the Senate doesn’t know?” The Captain looked absolutely bewildered, but he still didn’t recognize the loth-cat before him. “Either way, Senator Organa, these aren’t just any children. They’re the granddaughters of Grand Moff Tarkin.” The man held his head a little higher, waiting for Leia to suddenly reverse her position and start praising him at the revelation. When Leia continues to stare at him with a raised eyebrow and murder in her eyes, the man continues._

_“You know, Grand Moff Tarkin? He blew up Alder-“_

_“I know, Captain. I was there.” If Leia’s tone could get any colder, it would make a wampa freeze._

_“Ah, yes, so you understand-“_

_“No, I don’t, Captain. Their ancestry does not explain why you or General Flynt think it necessary to keep two half-starved little girls in a jail cell!” The woman is positively shaking with rage right now, and she takes a step towards the captain. His self-preservation finally kicks in, as the man falls back, fear registering on his face despite him towering over the petite woman._

_“B-but General, they’re not just Tarkins. Their mother, s-she’s still a fugitive, s-she won’t turn herself in and th-the girls are-“_

_“Bait? For their mother? Grand Moff Tarkin himself would be proud of such cruelty on your part, Captain.” Leia’s acerbic words find their mark, and the Captain actually flinches in response._

_“Senator, their mother is Admiral Daala!” he half-whispers, as if afraid that saying their name will summon its holder. “You know, one of the leading fugitive and highest ranking Imper-“_

_“I **know** , Captain.” Leia cut him off again, absolutely done with the man’s patronizing need to inform her of events she personally lived through. “And yet I still don’t see how in the Hell you think imprisoning and starving two babies is justified or appropriate for the New Republic!” _

_“S-Senator, I-“_

_“Did you separate them from their father, too? Didn’t you capture them together?”_

_“N-no, Senator! We did capture them together, but, he- ah, he,” the Captain’s eyes suddenly flit towards the cell door, more nervous than ever._

_“Daddy played a game where he hung from the ceiling for awhile. But Amara said he accidentally made himself sick cause he played too long and turned blue, so Daddy’s in the MedBay till he gets better.” Ellie chirped, face bright but its apparent from her eyes that her memories have been clumsily altered by the Force. The haunted, guilty look on Amara’s face speaks the truth, and Leia closes her eyes as if wounded._

_“Captain, open those doors immediately. Those girls are not staying here.”_

_“Senator, I cannot allow that to happen, these are valuable assets in the hunt for Admiral Daala!” The captain protested. Ben didn’t quite understand what was going on or why this Admiral was important, but he knew it was wrong. He looked back up at his mother, waiting to see what she would do._

_“Captain, I don’t care if they’re Palpatine’s last heirs, open the damn door now.” Leia growled._

_“Senator, I’m sorry, but General Flynt has order-“_

_“You will open the cell doors and turn the girls over to me.” Leia cut him off, voice even, commanding. Little Ben gasped, eyes wide as he watched his mother use that Force trick, the one he wasn’t supposed to use on the stupid Captain._

_“I will open the cell doors and turn the girls over to you.” Captain Denak’s eyes were dull, the tell-tale mindless void of someone being manipulated by a Jedi mind trick. He moved to the door jerkily, placing his palm on the keypad. The cell door opened with a whoosh._

_“You will tell the girls they’re free to go.”_

_“You’re free to go,” he parroted._

_“Stay here like this until the four of us leave.”_

_“I will stay here like this until the four of you leave.”_

_“Then you will go to your barrack, to your bunk and fall asleep, where you will forget this ever happened.”_

_“I will then go to my barrack, to my bunk and fall asleep, where I will forget this ever happened.”_

_“Come on, girls,” Leia said softly, extending her hand to the two frightened children in the cell. Ellie looked at her big sister, and Amara looked at Ben._

_He smiled, nodding, using the Force to send her comforting vibes._

_Leia bent down, scooping Ellie’s tiny body into her arms. Amara reached out, placing her small, dirty hand in Leia’s perfectly manicured one. Ben released his fingers wrapped in the skirt of Leia’s surcoat to grab Amara’s free hand, and he smiled at her._

_“I told you she’d help.” he whispered._

_“Ben, looks like you’re going to have a sleepover with our new friends tonight,” Leia chirped, bottling her anger deep under a facade of maternal cheer. She did it for the benefit of the two skinny little girls clinging to her, as well as her already too sensitive, too sweet little boy. The four of them disappeared around the corner, heading towards freedom and sunlight, leaving Captain Denak frozen in a ramrod straight salute, standing next to the open cell door._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, hi angst, I see you're back to make us all feel. 
> 
> Now, finally, everyone knows that Leia never betrayed Rey. General Organa's no fool and no snitch, and let's be honest: she loves her son and wouldn't actually betray him or Rey when she knows the Force Bond could bring her boy back. So now we know: Poe? Terrible. Hux? Misogynist. Leia? Our goddamned hero. Chewie? Awesome. Rose? Pissed AF. The New Republic? Not the cinnamon roll everyone thinks it is. Kittara? Traumatized. Ben? Also traumatized and still horny. Rey? _See_ Ben. 
> 
> EU fans, enjoy all the references I threw in here for ya. 
> 
> Now, who wants to bet that Kittara starts referring to that shared memory moment as a threesome? 
> 
> Next week: All aboard, we're going to Mustafar!


	10. Skywalkers Really Have a Flair for the Dramatic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Double update today!** Rey and Kylo are finally on their way to Mustafar, and ready to start on their lessons from Ahsoka. But Kittara's not the only one way of Mustafar and its potential effects. Meanwhile, it's getting hot in here, and it's not just the lava fountains. Will Mustafar bring our favorite pair of Force-Bonded cinnamon rolls together, or will it drive them apart?

If there’s one word Kylo Ren normally wouldn’t use to describe Rey, its “adorable.”

But, now, in this moment, her head resting on the edge of his shoulder as she dozes off, her hazel eyes flashing awake one second before growing hazy with sleep, it’s all the Supreme Leader can think about. How this incredible, sexy, furious warrior woman looks so kriffing adorable as she tries valiantly to stay awake during their long ride to Mustafar. 

They’re on his bat-winged shuttle, his personal guard relieved to spend some time off before returning to the _Finalizer_. It’s a risk, but one that guaranteed he and Rey absolute privacy while they truly began their training with Ahsoka Tano. Besides, attacking Kylo Ren at Darth Vader’s castle is too crazy for even the Resistance to try, so he’s relatively confident in his safety on Mustafar. 

Kittara’s piloting his craft, with him co-piloting till they broke atmo. After that, she’d unceremoniously kicked him out of the cockpit, telling him to go keep his girl entertained with a knowing twinkle in her eye. She’s mellowed a bit since their shared memory of their first meeting, as if she’d let her guard down upon seeing Rey’s reaction to her disturbing origins. 

Then again, Kittara also keeps jokingly referring to the whole thing as their “threesome,” which completely confused Rey and caused Kylo to have to very awkwardly explain the meaning behind Kittara’s insinuation. This resulted in a crimson faced Rey and Kylo, which, of course, delighted Kittara and encouraged her to keep making said comments. 

Rather than attempting to (gently, just enough to remind her) Force choke his Counsel for her latest innuendo, Kylo followed her suggestion and instead wandered back to the main hold of his shuttle. There he found Rey very boredly spinning some pens in the air with the Force, trying to occupy herself. And that was how Kylo ended up sitting on the cold metal bench next to his scavenger, twirling one pen in time with it’s mate that’s still controlled by Rey. 

Or that’s what happened until he’d watched the small woman’s eyelids start to droop. The dark-haired Knight almost smiled at the sight, at the meaning behind her action. _Trust_. He’d very carefully set both pens back on a nearby table with the Force, not wanting to disturb her. Eventually, she’d curled up against him, seeking warmth, and he’d wrapped an arm around her, marveling how she still felt so small, so tiny against him. Now he has a half-asleep Rey trying so hard to stay awake, half-lidded eyes and pink lips parted, and its the sweetest thing he’s ever seen. 

He doesn’t dare move, or shift, or even breathe too heavily. He won’t break this moment.

It occurs to him that this woman is really doing a number on his status as the fearsome Supreme Leader, he thinks. Even here, now, her presence, her easy serenity keeps his ever-tumultuous emotions at bay. Yesterday’s revelations surrounding Organa (‘your mother’ his mind hisses, dripping with insinuation) racked him with guilt, yet curiously granted him some sort of relief. Relief that she hadn’t completely sold him out, that some part of her still had some maternal instincts left. Last night, after the shared memory, after he’d gotten back to his quarters, he’d started to break down. For a moment, he gave in to his swirling rage at his mother (‘you gave up on me, you left me, you left me alone. thought I was a monster, I _am_ a monster.’). At himself (‘you failed her. you failed her so many times, you were weak. you gave in. you took her son and her husband. you are no better than her father.’)

But just as he’d ignited his lightsaber, needing to destroy something, anything, even if it was his unassuming black wardrobe, his Bond with Rey activated. He felt Rey’s slim yet strong arms wrap around his torso as she’d embraced him from behind, pressing her face into the vast planes of his back. 

_You’re not alone, and you’re not a monster. Not to me_ , she’d whispered and Kylo felt the anger start draining out of him. All his focus was on Rey pressed against his back and how warm she is, how _right_ she feels and how can she have this effect on him? Then she was gone, the Bond giving out, leaving his mind filled with _Rey_ and nothing else. 

Kylo hears footsteps echo down the hallway, snapping his thoughts back to the present and making him tense ever so slightly. Only once he recognizes the clack-clack noise as Kittara’s steps does he relax. The noise gives Rey the winning edge in her fight against slumber, her head jerking up a final time, long lashes rapidly blinking the sleep away.

He’s surprised when Rey doesn’t move away from him, and the Knight doesn’t make a move to push her away. He wants her to know that she can relax around Kittara. He needs her to trust Kittara as he does.

(Plus, he really doesn’t want Rey to move away. She smells like the sun and Chandrilan roses, and he can count the freckles splayed across her cheeks from this view. If asked, they’ll both lie and say its because Rey’s cold since First Order ships are kept just above Hothian temperatures, and hope Kittara ignores the wool capelet wrapped around Rey’s shoulders. Kylo knows better, but he also knows she’ll play along.)

“Good morning, my little dumplings,” Kittara calls out playfully as she strides into the hold. She quickly assesses the scene before her but says nothing, although her eyes seem more than amused. 

Never a good sign with Kittara Ren. 

“Dumplings?” Rey inquires, confusion crinkling her nose. Kittara shrugs in response.

“I dunno, my adoptive father, Wedge, used to say it. Some Tattooinian shit. Plus, Kylo said I can’t tease you about-“

“Kittara,” Kylo growled warningly, drawing an exaggerated huff out of his Knight. 

“Men and their egos, right, Rey?” 

Rey snickered, amusement fluttering across their Bond. Kylo briefly wonders if he’ll regret introducing the pair.

“Anyways, before Lord Buzzkillington here gets too huffy, I brought you guys some in-flight entertainment.” Kittara’s right hand is digging into the concealed pocket of her black surcoat as she attempts to pull out whatever new toy she’s found. Kylo knows that her pockets are black holes; one time, he’d had to find some bacta in her left one to apply after Kittara fell unconscious during a mission. He’d found four bacta packs, seven bandaids, three vials of poison, two commlinks, eight tubes of lipstick (all in the same red color), two condoms, a blowdart gun (no darts), and two standard identity chips, neither of which were under her name. That was back when Kittara still wore the standard Knight of Ren utility belt; Kylo only guesses how much more those pockets contain now. 

“There it is!” Kittara crows, pulling out another wooden Holochron. It looks exactly like the first one he and Rey opened the other day, back on Coruscant. 

Any sleep still lingering in Rey’s mind vanishes, and the tanned woman leans slightly forward, excitement written on her lovely features. Kylo briefly misses the feeling of her warmth pressed into his side (Supreme Leaders get cold too, he tells himself), but can’t help but feel just as intrigued as his Bondmate. 

“A gift from Ahsoka, to start you two off.” Kittara proceeds to toss the small cube across the hold, and Rey easily snatches it out of the air with one hand. 

“Have fun kids, and remember, hands where I can see ‘em!” Kittara chirped before hastily retreating, although Kylo may have helped her with a little shove through the Force for _that_ comment. Rey’s back to turning six shades of red, which is also kriffing adorable and dammit, now Kylo’s distracted. 

“Shall we?” She half-squeaks, embarrassment running through the Bond. Kylo half wants to tell her she’s welcome to put her hands where ever she damn likes, but he reminds himself again to be patient. 

“Let’s,” is what he says instead, and he removes his glove before placing his fingers on one side of the Holocron as they had before. Rey moves hers to the others, careful to avoid his. But Kylo catches her beautiful brown-green eyes staring into his, and they stare for a moment. 

Blush number 9? 10? Crosses Rey’s cheeks before she breaks her stare away, eyes focusing on the blue glow of the opening Holocron.

A larger version of Ahsoka pops forward, standing almost directly in front of them. At full-size, Kylo can make out more of her features: the intricate white tribal markings decorating her dark skin, the slight lines of age around the curve of her eyes. The dark wood of her headpiece, made of the same wood as the Holocrons; the striping of her long, long montrals. 

“Ah, my new pupils. I’m glad you chose to accept my offer, and take this journey together. You’ve both come a long way already. I’m surprised no destruction’s been wrought over this decision, Kylo Ren. And you, Rey of Jakku. Not running any more, are we?”

Rey tenses, as does Kylo, at the gentle teasing of the older woman. Kylo wonders if she’d even ruffle their hair, were she really here. 

“The most important thing, however, is that you’re already catching on that these lessons require you two to work - and stay - together. This is not an option, and I’ve made it that way by ensuring that these Holocrons only open when both of you are touching it. So, if one of you ends up killing the other, make sure you cut off their hand or else you’ll be shit outta luck.” Ahsoka giggles, and its an almost girlish sound. For a second, Kylo can’t believe this woman was a fearsome and formidable Jedi who faced down Darth Vader - her old Master.

“This is because to bring balance to the Force, you cannot do it alone.” she pauses. “I am not asking one of you to stay in the Dark and the other to burn in the Light; that would be pointless and again, if one of you dies, then we’re all screwed. No. You two must balance yourselves, and each other. Once you’ve balanced each other, and the Force, then you can choose whether to balance others and teach them what you’ve learned. You know, like your sarcastic wannabe seductress friend, Kylo. She’s got quite a mouth on her. Remind me to get her and Leia Organa drunk together.”

Rey actually snorts, then claps her hand over her mouth, horrified. She looks at Kylo, waiting for the usual wave of pain that accompanies the mention of his mother, but Kylo feels only a small twist this time. Its as if the knowledge that his mother didn’t betray Rey (and, by proxy, him) has calmed a little bit of his anger for the time being. 

He shoves any thoughts of Organa away, determined to focus on the lesson. 

“Each of the lessons will include homework for you to do. Some together, some apart. In the meantime, you should continue meditating, together; and yes, I know its boring and you both hate it. Your grandfather hated it, too, Kylo. Hell, I didn’t like it much until I got older. But, joint meditation will be helpful and will also continue to strengthen your Bond.”

Kylo can’t help but want to grin at the knowledge that both he and his all-powerful grandfather hated meditation. Being still has never been his forte, and its nice to know where he gets it from. 

Ahsoka then mutters something that sounds suspiciously like “just as long as you meditate and aren’t just making out the whole time” and Rey coughs. Kylo even feels heat in his cheeks and he’s sure Rey’s blushing too. 

It doesn’t count when someone else does it, he sulks.

“Now that that’s out of the way, let’s get started with today’s lesson.” With this, the holo-version of Ahsoka bent down, getting into a sitting position before them. “As I mentioned, there’s no light and dark side of the Force. The Force just is. That’s one thing we’ve all been getting wrong for centuries. Early on, the Jedi determined that in addition to the Dark and the Light, there must also be a Cosmic Force and a Passive Force. The Passive Force is just that: all it does is exist, binding all the living beings in the universe together through its energy. The Cosmic Force is what many call destiny or luck: it bends the universe and influences it to its will.

“But the Jedi also got this wrong, as did the Sith that followed them. There’s no sides, no divisions to the Force. All it wants is to be balanced, and it will throw the galaxy as it sees fit to bring balance - or get as close as it is. It has no cares or concerns about emotions, about good and evil or light and dark or passive and active. It just wants to be balanced, and it keeps getting so very close except for all these pesky living beings, especially Force-sensitive ones. We tend to fuck everything up royally, which is why the Force keeps drastically trying to correct itself by creating powerful Force users to restore balance.”

“You may be asking me, Ahsoka, or Snips - because you two better not call me Master,” she grimaced, “How is it that the Jedi and the Sith ended up determining what is dark and what is light and leading us down the completely wrong path for the last few millennia?

“This is an excellent question. And I don’t really have all the answers to it, but I’ve figured out a bit. You see, all emotions flood through the Force, and any emotion can be used to heighten your connection to it. Anger, love, fear, happiness… intense emotion by a Force user can be used to tap further into it and draw that emotion, that power around you. We’re not sure why, but we know that’s how it works and early Force-users figured this out quickly. 

“At first, all was well, and the Force was balanced. There was still peace, because neither side reigned supreme. But it wasn’t too long before people noticed that different feelings, different emotions were more effective with certain aspects of the Force, and depending on what they wanted from the Force and for themselves… well, you can guess what happened.”

At this, Ahsoka held out her hands, cupping them so little holosymbols of the Jedi and the Sith sat comfortably in them. Her face looked wise, serene, but her eyes were smiling. 

“Of course, once you create a religion or an order around eschewing certain emotions and only living a certain way makes you terribly disinclined to reconsider whether you’re actually doing the right thing. Zealotry and dogma plagued both the Jedi and the Sith, and since each side forbade certain emotions (albeit unsuccessfully), both sides not only hampered themselves in the Force, but also completely fucked over the entire galaxy as they were never able to truly eradicate their counterparts. Unfortunately for the Force, those who are gifted with it tend to be incredibly stubborn and refuse to listen to reason, which is why this knowledge has only been known and passed down by a few, waiting for the right time. 

“Which brings us to you both. Kylo Ren, Ben Solo, whatever. Powerful darkness, with a stubborn and undying flame of light, buried deep inside.” Even though its a Holochron, Ahsoka is staring at him like she’s seeing into his soul. It deeply unsettles the dark-haired man, as does her assertion that his light has always refused to die. It feels like failure to him, after all he sought to achieve. 

He feels a flash of warmth and looks over, down to see Rey’s hand covering his. She’s sending him warm, soothing sensations through their Bond.

_You didn’t fail. You survived_ , she says gently. 

“And Rey of Jakku. A child of origins somehow humbler than my Master’s, but oh, an equal to the most powerful Force user in every way. A child of sand and light, but with darkness in your core.”

Now its Rey’s turn to shiver, and Kylo grips her hand a little tighter. 

_**You survived too.** _

“I’m sure neither of you are thrilled at what you already know being spoken aloud, but its true. Its also terribly normal, I hate to say. No Jedi ever walked free of so-called ‘darkness’, not unless they damned themselves to the so-called Light. You’d be amazed how you can freeze in the Light. How can you have compassion without passion, love, attachment? How can you fight for ‘good’ when you have no idea what those emotions mean? You shut yourself off, you become a true ‘Jedi’, you become Luke Skywalker: old, bitter and more lost on an island than Vader ever was. You forget why you live, why you fight.

“But the same problem exists in the Dark. Believe me, few Darksiders have ever truly expelled the ‘Light’ from them. Not even Darth Vader, more man than machine, could ever truly rid himself of it. He thought he did, but then he learned his son survived and his life was a lie. And while that fueled his anger, it eventually overrode it: his love for his son. And his daughter. You cannot totally detach from the world. If you do, what do you have to lose? What do you have to fear? To hate? To desire?

“And how can these feelings be dark? Is there nothing more glorious than desire, love, passion? It’s what creates new life, keeps the Force alive, flowing. Same with happiness, contentment. How can you have that without attachment, something to make you feel happy?

“But because one side has tried to shut off all their positive emotions; and the other has tried to do the same with all their negative feelings, we’ve ended up with generations of repressed and emotionally fucked up Force users completely throwing the Galaxy out of balance, resulting in centuries of war, violence and destruction. 

“This goes far, far past the Galactic Civil Wars, you see. And that’s why we need balance.” Ahsoka smiles, looking at the Bonded pair before her. “Because the Force demands it. And we will not find peace, _the Force will not let there be peace_ , until the balance is restored. 

“Now, before I let you both go, I want to caution the two of you on something. Kylo, your homicidal little friend informed me that you and Rey are headed to Mustafar to continue training.”

Kylo sucked in his breath, cursing Kittara under it. 

“Actually, I believe what Kittara said was something like, ‘For the love of the Force, Ahsoka, talk his stupid stubborn ass out of it before he drags Rey to Mustafar and accidentally gets her possessed by Vader’s ghost.’ Sound accurate?”

Kylo groans as Rey fails to stifle a giggle.

“I am sure you’re thinking that this isn’t a problem, given that I’ve just explained to you that there’s really no ‘Dark’ or ‘Light’ sides of the Force. However, we’ve all heard of, or seen, places that some see as ‘vectors’ or ‘hotspots’ for the Force. For example, the old Jedi temple on Coruscant is a well-known place of darkness due to Vader slaughtering the younglings during Order 66.” Now, a holo of the old, crumbling temple appeared in Ahsoka’s hand, with a dark hooded figure standing outside it. Rey couldn’t see its face, but it felt foreboding.

“On the other hand, there was the site of the first Jedi temple on Ahch-To - what, you didn’t think I knew where Skywalker was hiding, Rey?” Rey’s mouth was indeed open, shock buzzing through her as she stared at a new protection of the old Uneti tree on Ahch-To. 

She didn’t dare look at Ben, she could feel his smirk through the Bond. 

“Remember what I told you both before, that the Force flows through emotion? Well, where there were moments of great emotion experienced by a powerful Force-user, the Force created by the land and living things there remembers. The emotion, the event, it imprints itself through the Force. That’s what creates these pockets of so-called ‘dark’ or ‘light’ - the trauma caused by the beings wielding the Force. 

“Which is why, Kylo Ren, I don’t entirely disagree with your Knight’s assessment of Mustafar. I can guarantee that Vader’s ghost is not hanging about - I’ve instructed him to leave you the Hell alone until I’m done with you both since Skywalkers have an incredible way of fucking things up. Also, he’s watching your mother and trying his best to protect her while she’s vulnerable.” Ahsoka stops, as if considering the implications of her next words before continuing. 

“Kylo. I’m sure you know well that Mustafar is where Darth Vader was truly born after being burned alive in a duel with his old Master, Obi-Wan Kenobi. I believe you’re quite familiar with that story and his name. I don’t know if you know that its also the place where Anakin Skywalker attacked his pregnant wife, and believed that he killed her, causing him to become completely untethered and adopt his Vader persona, giving his soul to the Sith.” 

“Because of this, Mustafar bears the emotional scars of Anakin and Obi-Wan’s memories, as well as Padmé Amidala’s. These emotions can be… intense, as you can imagine. Kylo, keep an eye on Rey. You’ll be safe in the castle, but keep her away from the mines and the lava fields. Try to minimize your time there in general. Rey, it’s important that you stay close to Kylo. Now is not the time to go exploring, no matter how curious you are. And for the love of kriff, if you hear anything whispering to you or calling to you ignore it! Last thing I need is you getting possessed and wandering into a lava flow. Got it?”

“Got it,” Kylo and Rey agreed in unison, and then frowned, realizing that Ahsoka couldn’t actually hear them since this is a recording. 

“Good,” Ahsoka said after a beat, as if she _could_. It strikes Kylo as eerie, but then again, when aren’t Force-users acting at least a little off? 

“Now, homework. I need you two to get used to meditating together. So why don’t you enjoy the rest of your trip by practicing just that. The goal is to enter a joint meditation. Concentrate on feeling together, joining your minds, and acting as one during your meditation. You must do it without pain or hostility towards the other, it must be voluntary, and dual-sided. It will take some time, but I am confident in you two figuring something out.” Ahsoka winks, and if Kylo was drinking something, he’d be choking on it now. 

“May the Force be with you both.” Ahsoka concluded, and with that, her life-size hologram blipped out, leaving the hold in front of them empty. 

“Well, she’s certainly… unique.” Rey said after a moment, trying to think of the right word to describe the odd former Jedi. 

“That’s one way of putting it,” Kylo muttered. 

“Ben, about Mustafar…” Rey started, and saw his large frame bristle, waiting for the attack. She frowned, ever so slightly, and put a hand on his muscular shoulder (which she tried not to focus on, no sir). 

He flinched in response, and only half-turns to look at her. 

“I trust you,” she said softly, and marveled at how the tension immediately flowed out of his body at her words. 

Mentally, she scratched another point into the walls of her brain as she watched the corners of Kylo’s plush lips perk up into a smile. 

====================

Kittara Ren didn’t lie: Mustafar was hot. 

Hotter than Jakku, something Rey never thought possible but she’d also never considered a planet that appeared to be 90% lava. 

She now understood why Kittara recommended the shorter capelet (which she was already sweating under) with a simple grey tank top to match her usual arm wrappings, matching leggings and thick black boots. She could feel the heat radiating, making the air swim and sway around her. 

Even Kylo removed his heavy black cloak before disembarking from his shuttle, muttering something about how he’d never been _that_ interested in walking that closely to his grandfather’s path.

They’d landed on a small, octagonal landing pad that seemed to float above cooling obsidian rock, streaked with an occasional jagged crack of glowing red hot. Lava fountains continuously went off in the near-distance, bathing the world in a superheated crimson glow. 

The crimson hues of the molten rock reminds Rey, once again, of the _Supremacy_ and the battle she and Kylo fought together after killing Snoke. 

She finds it oddly comforting. 

Once they make their way into the incredibly foreboding black-spired castle in front of them, the temperature cools considerably. While the building itself is a bit over the top, even for a Sith lord’s lair, its aircon works beautifully, and for that, Rey is grateful. It’s still warmer than Coruscant, but not “holy shit, I’m in a kriffing volcano” hot. 

Kittara remained with the shuttle, leaving as soon as Kylo and Rey entered the castle. Rey felt a bit sorry to see her go, as she was starting to like the odd petite woman. Sure, she was slightly (okay, extremely) homicidal and incredibly inappropriate, but she was refreshingly blunt and to the point. More importantly, she was an honest friend to Kylo, her protectiveness evident in her every move. Rey appreciates the loyalty she’s seen from Kittara. In a way, she’s jealous that Kylo has that, but more so glad that he has such a friend, given the Sarlacc pit that makes up the First Order’s leadership. 

Rey looks around the hallway around her. While its well-lit, it’s certainly spartan, all black obsidian and white light. 

“My grandfather wasn’t much of a decorator,” Kylo quipped darkly, leading her further into the fortress.

“Mm, I can tell. Guess that’s another thing those Sith frown on.” Rey grins.

“Indeed. No love, no compassion, and no interior decorating.” Kylo declares, trying to sound as authoritative as possible. Rey dissolves into a fit of giggles, picturing an irate Darth Vader chiding his disciples for their taste in a plush blue chaise lounge. She pushes the mental image across the Bond at Kylo, who makes that delicious chuckling noise that makes her stomach churn. 

_**Everyone knows that chaise lounges are the tools of the Jedi.** _

_Was that a joke?_

_**Of course not. Joking is also forbidden by the Dark Side.** _

Kylo leads her into a lift (where Rey very pointedly thinks of everything _but_ the last time they were in a lift together, thank you very much), and then down another long and too-bright hallway until they finally reach a door. With a flick of his fingers (because of course everything is Force-activated here) and a swish, the door opens, revealing…

A surprisingly bright and almost cheery bedchambers. The floors are covered with a plush, ecru colored carpet, and the walls are a deep gold. Amber colored wood makes up the furniture, including the large canopy bed, draped with shimmering white gauzy curtains that float around it. What would be the window is actually a viewscreen, with a peaceful scene of a balcony overlooking a beautiful blue lake projected on it. A large portrait of a beautiful, regal looking woman sits over the dresser, across from the bed.

Rey blinks, stopping in her steps. She’s sure her mouth hangs open with shock, and it can’t be attractive, but she also can’t bring herself to care.

“Am I… Is this still Vader’s castle? Like, Darth Vader?” she asks.

The grin on Kylo’s face falters a bit, looking almost sad as he looks around the room, eyes resting on the portrait.

“This was meant to be my grandmother’s room. He- I never could figure out why, but he filled it with her things. Things that reminded her of him.”

“Because he never could let go of her,” Rey responds, her voice almost a whisper. 

As if entranced, she walks over to the portrait, eyes fixed on the woman’s amber ones. She looks so much like Leia, with her chestnut hair and classical beauty. She is small, slightly built like the Rebel Princess, but that’s not what’s most striking to Rey. No, its her eyes. Her eyes live on in her grandson, Rey thinks, beautiful and emotional, like mirrors to her soul. 

“My grandmother, Padmé.” Ben says quietly, stepping next to her. 

“She’s beautiful.”

“I suppose,” Kylo says, but his eyes are locked on Rey’s face. He works his jaw as if holding something back.

“You have her eyes. I like them,” Rey says, almost shyly, lowering her own hazel irises with a blush. 

“I like yours,” he responds, using that almost-purr of a voice that turns Rey’s knees into jelly. “If you want, this can be where you stay. I figured it’d be more comfortable for you in here, its not as… morose as the other rooms.”

Rey can’t help but giggle again, looking up at the dark-haired prince through her lashes. “You mean Vader kept the brooding theme going on in all the other guestrooms?”

“I think he meant to deter long term visitors.”

“Where are you staying?”

“My- uh, I’m across the hall,” Ben stammers, as if taken aback by her question. Rey can’t help but roll her eyes. Why wouldn’t she want to know where he is, given that they’d been warned by both Kittara Ren and Ahsoka Tano about the potential effects of Mustafar?

“In Vader’s chambers?” She asks cheekily, a teasing grin on her face. Kylo huffs, amused at her playfulness. 

“Hardly. First, Lord Vader would never deign himself so low as to sleep on the same level as his guests. Second, he had hyperbaric chambers so he could remove his helmet - bit of a side effect of being burned alive.”

Hearing Kylo refer to his beloved grandfather in such a manner was enough to send Rey into another fit of giggles. She’d never thought she’d hear Kylo Ren speak about Darth Vader in such a way, and yet… here they were. 

It was another sign of how comfortable he’d become with her. Their Bond was loosening the both of them, allowing them to relax and truly be themselves with each other. She saw more and more flashes of that Solo wit as each day passed, learning that Ben - Kylo - could actually be quite charming despite all his awkwardness.

Rey hates to admit how relieved she is at the knowledge that Kylo’s chambers are so close to hers, although she understands why. What she doesn’t understand (or pretends to) is the odd twist of disappointment in her stomach that they’re not sharing chambers. After all, their Bond does bring them to each other’s beds every night, and had shown them their very mutual desire. 

A desire that Rey knows both of them are too afraid to act on. Yet. 

“Should we, ah, try meditating again before dinner?” Rey suggests, needing to distract herself from continuing down _that_ train of thought. Meditating on Kylo’s shuttle had been utterly useless (as expected), neither of them able to calm their minds enough. Rey doubts they’ll be successful even now, but she doesn’t want to let Ahsoka down. 

“Sure,” Ben replies, eyebrow raised but saying nothing. “We can go to the training room here.” 

She follows him back through the florescently-lit halls that burn her eyeballs, making a series of sharp turns until they find the right door and they’re in a training room that is nearly identical to the one in Kylo’s apartment. 

“First Order standardizes all their training rooms,” he explains with a shrug. “Makes it easier.” 

“Hm,” Rey nods, taking a seat on the familiar padded floor. At least its comfortable to sit on, soft and accommodating. Thanks to years of malnutrition, she still lacks much padding on her bottom, which made the hard metal benches of Kylo’s shuttle absolute Hell to sit on. 

Kylo sits across from her, almost close enough for their knees to touch. Rey privately wonders if its weird to wish that they were. 

‘Calming thoughts,’ she reminds herself, and tries to think of the island from her dreams. While Luke Skywalker disappointed her in every way, Ahch-To had not. It was as lush and wet and green-blue as she’d hoped, and Rey spent many hours just watching the waves crashing against the cliffs. It was as close to meditation as she’d ever gotten, and she tries to envision those waves again. How they swelled and twisted, dark blue bodies topped with white foam, rising up out of the sea to lash against the black rock, slowly eating away at the cliff face over time. 

It strikes her that she’s drawn to the waves’ violence, the darkness of the sea in the same way she’s drawn to Kylo’s. It is a violence familiar to her, in many ways, as her life on Jakku was made of violence. And yet Kylo’s was different, too, and it was the difference that most intrigued her. The way it flowed through him, making his movements powerful, erratic.   
She can’t help but wonder if that violence translates into other parts of his life, and Rey shivers at the thought. Her mind goes back to her earlier train of thoughts, and she thinks of how she’d briefly held him last night. How he’d felt her still under her touch then, but would he still if her touch conveyed a different intent? Would he treat her like a piece of shimmersilk, or like the black rocks of Ahch-To? And why does that second option sound so appealing to her? 

Then again, for her to find out, one of them needs to gather the courage to actually make a move, she thinks with a frown. It’s funny, she thinks. Twenty-four hours ago she was convinced her attraction went unrequited; now she knows he wants her but fear still paralyzes her. She knows he’s holding back, she can feel it. Hell, she can _see_ it at certain points. During their sparring yesterday she thought he’d finally make a move and felt rather put out that he hadn’t. Only later had it occurred to her that Ben feared scaring her off. He didn’t want to take advantage of her, or make her think he was. He wanted to wait until she was ready, something which she both appreciated and resented, as this meant it was her move to make. 

Rey’s not afraid of losing him once they give in, no. She knows she should be, but she isn’t, because she knows that isn’t an option and _that_ , that is exactly what scares her. It scares the living Force out of her, to be honest. Rey knows once they give in, once they kiss, it will be everything and nothing and there will be no stopping them. No separating them. 

Again, its absurdity as this is exactly what Rey secretly desires. But for an abandoned Scavenger who has avoided attachment, commitment for her entire life? It’s also terrifying. She’s never had sex, much less a relationship. Holding hands is (sadly) the furthest she’s ever gone, which isn’t far at all. If Rey kisses Kylo, she won’t be able to stop until she has him in her bed, she knows this. Her desire’s been driving her absolutely crazy, and once their lips touch she won’t be able to control herself. Sex itself brings a vulnerability she’s not used to, not to mention the thought of trying to fit him inside of her (a feat which seems near-impossible in her mind). There’s that fear of disappointing him, yes, but also that fear of intimacy itself that makes Rey want to turn heel and run. 

That’s why Rey’s so disappointed that Kylo, Mr. I-Can-Take-Whatever-I-Want, seems to be so intent on waiting for her to make the first move. Because at this rate, she might still very well die a virgin. 

Her frown deepens, and she lets out a sigh. Why can’t any of this just be _simple_ , dammit?

“Rey?” Kylo asks in that calm, deep baritone that he’d used in their earliest Bond sessions, the one that makes her swallow in response. She opens her eyes to find his fixated on her face, pupils wide and black as night. His lips are slightly parted, and Rey feels the same swirl of desire, anxiety, restraint and frustration radiating from him that she’s feeling. 

For a second, Rey thinks he’s going to kiss her, as if he’d somehow heard her internal monologue and decided to simplify things for her. 

Then her stomach rumbles, loudly, causing her cheeks to burn and effectively killing the moment. Kylo leans back, a small chuckle escaping his lips. 

“I agree with your stomach. We’re not getting anywhere now and I can’t imagine you will while hungry.”

Food does sound lovely, Rey thinks, realizing how famished she feels. Damn regular meals are really spoiling her. 

“C’mon, let’s get something to eat.” Kylo maneuvers himself to his feet, but doesn’t whirl around like he usually does, leaving her to follow. Instead, he extends his right hand, offering to help her up. 

She should be insulted. She would be insulted, but at this point, all Rey sees is the alabaster skin of his ungloved hand. She flashes him a smile, placing hers in his and reveling in the warmth as his fingers wrap around her. With a gentle pull, she’s on her feet and facing him. 

“Lead the way,” she purrs, hoping she sounds somewhat flirtatious as they start moving. 

She waits for him to drop her hand.

He doesn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the continued love and support through the kudos, bookmarks and comments. I love you all, and you guys kept me going despite a rough week and my uterus declaring war on my ovaries. Seriously, you guys are the best. I hope you enjoy this chapter and the next one, which will be posted immediately after this one (since I wanted it to be a separate chapter for flow reasons but also want to give it to y'all now). Cause we're on Mustafar, and the party's just getting started. 
> 
> As a reminder and heads up, this fic updates every Sunday. It's turning out to be a longer fic than I expected, and so I may need to alter the posting schedule every so often. **All schedule changes will be announced on my tumblr, http://itsalilah.tumblr.com** where I also just put up a longer explanation and have some questions for any authors more experienced about tumblr and posting/sharing fics there. Any feedback or recommendations are more than welcome!


	11. Hate to Say I Told You So

“What are you doing out here?” 

His voice is all wrong. Rey doesn’t know this voice, she thinks, but this woman she’s dreaming of, the one who’s taken over Rey’s body in her dream, she knows it well. She looks into the eyes of her husband (husband?), her love’s, and Rey realizes this is not a dream about Kylo. No, this man’s eyes are lighter, blue, but darker than this woman remembers, knows them to be. 

“I was so worried about you,” she says, and its not Rey’s voice. This woman’s voice is lighter, breathier, and has an accent like Leia’s, like Ben’s. She feels in a way like Leia, like Luke, which comforts Rey. 

Worry is not what this woman feels, as what she feels is stronger than worry. She is lying and the man in front of her, beautiful with tanned skin, knows that she is. Ice cold fear races through the woman’s veins, through Rey’s, dragged along involuntarily on this journey. She’s afraid for her husband, what they said he’s done, what that means for him, for her, for their baby.

Baby? Rey’s mind flashes an alarm but then her mouth is speaking.

“Obi-Wan told me terrible things,” she clutches tighter onto her husband’s brown robes. A Jedi’s robes.

The man’s face darkens, and Rey notices a faded scar running from his forehead, through his left eyebrow, into his cheek. 

‘Odd,’ Rey thinks. Same spot as the one she gave Ben, just shorter, smaller. 

“What things?” the man growls, his grip tightening on her. He’s afraid too, afraid to lose her, Rey can see that in his eyes but yet the woman doesn’t, too lost in her own emotions.

“He said,” she gasps, panting for breath in the superheated air, panic threatening to overtake her airways, “he said you turned to the Dark Side. That- that you killed younglings!” her voice broke, and she can’t bear to look at him any longer, eyes fluttering down. 

“Obi-Wan is trying to turn you against me,” he says, trying to sound soothing, and Rey feels a flutter of the Force around him. 

The woman doesn’t buy it for a second. Obi-Wan is a friend, a true friend and she has to make him see, she has to stop him before they get to him. 

She can’t lose him.

She won’t.

“He cares about us,” she pleads.

“Us?” Another growl from the man, fury flashing across his face. So much like Ben, Rey thinks.

“He knows,” the woman admits. “He wants to help you!”

“Is Obi-Wan going to protect you?” the man growls, jealous, and the woman’s desperation grows. No, no, no, the woman thinks, its not supposed to go this way! She’s begging now, her fear overtaking Rey to the point that she can’t even make out their words. Its overwhelming, this absolute feeling of despair that’s racking her at the thought of losing him, to this, and it sucks Rey down, down, down. 

Rey realizes that the woman’s fear isn’t at the thought of losing him. It’s at the knowledge that she’s already lost him, a recognition that is burning through her as her mind begs for it to be a lie, refusing to accept it. 

“You’re going down a path I can’t follow!” the woman sobs, her heart twisting as if its breaking into a thousand different pieces. Rey’s twists too, echoing the woman’s words, taking her back, back to a place and a time when she, too, begged.

Please don’t go this way, another voice, Rey’s voice echoes, her eyes stinging with tears as she stares at Kylo’s outstretched hand. It’s a memory from before, back when they were still enemies. Back when neither would cave, neither could see past their hurt. Back when her heart tore into pieces too. 

“Because of Obi-Wan?” the man’s voice is cold, and his eyes aren’t on hers anymore. They’re looking behind her, as if already focused on someone else. Ready to cast her, them, off on his quest for power, for power, all for power and all she’s done, all she’s sacrificed is for nothing and its too hot and the child in her stomach feels her fear, reacting to it, pushing at her as she pushes its father away. 

Her husband.

She loves him so, so much, but she’s right. Her love won’t save them. Won’t save _him_.

She’s failed.

====================

Rey shoots up in her bed, gasping for breath as she’s thrown out of her nightmare. Where it was too hot, her room is now cold, too cold. Rey swears she can see her breath with each exhale, which is ridiculous. They’re on a lava planet, for kriff’s sake. 

Yet she’s trembling from the cold, and the fear, the woman’s fear. Tears burn her eyes, spilling over and running down her cheeks. Rey’s still gasping for breath, sobs breaking through and making it harder to get the oxygen her body needs. She’s overwhelmed by fear, that feeling of failure that wracked the dream woman as she watched her husband fall.

Rey knows its irrational, but she needs to see Kylo. She needs to feel that he’s okay, he’s here, that she hasn’t failed. That she hasn’t lost him, not like she had, she did before. The dream, the woman’s anguish, her panic, it felt like the Supremacy, like Crait but times ten, and if Rey wasn’t so distraught she’d probably take it as a sign to keep her distance from her Bondmate. 

But Rey’s brain isn’t rational, all it wants is Ben and so she’s climbing out of bed, bare feet barely hitting the floor as she runs out of her chambers and across the hallway to his door. She doesn’t care that she’s a sobbing, shivering mess; she doesn’t care that this is dangerous. She doesn’t care that the pad beside his door responds to her handprint, opening willingly for her as she runs in. It doesn’t even register that bombarding Kylo in such a way while he’s asleep might be a terrible idea, given his history with rude awakenings. 

Luckily, he’s already awake and out of his bed, standing before it. Even in the dark, Rey can see the concern written across his face, feel it crawling through his Force signature.

Rey’s never been the type of girl to throw herself in anyone’s arms. But maybe the woman possessing her in her sleep still controls her, because she finds herself doing just that to Kylo. She wraps her arms around his thick waist, wrenching him to her, and tries to bury her face into the heat of his muscled chest. 

For a split second, Kylo Ren stands there dumbfounded, arms slack at his side. Then his arms slowly, tentatively, wrap around the small woman clinging to him, hugging her back. One hand rubs her back through the thin linen of her sleeping tank, making soothing circles as his other one just grips her tightly. 

His skin feels hotter than magma and Rey’s shivers stop, her mind slowing down and filled with the comfort that he’s here, he’s safe, he’s not leaving, she hasn’t lost him, not again, he’s here, he’s here. 

She’s no longer crying, and Rey finds herself nuzzling her face into the hard planes of his chest, enjoying the scent of Kylo surrounding her. She’d always wondered what it would be like to touch his bare chest, ever since Ahch-To. Its better than she imagined, feeling the thick ropes of his muscles on her skin. She’s fantasized about kissing down his chest, down the valley between his pecs where her face now resides. She’s even imagined licking his skin and tasting the salt of his sweat and she suddenly wants to do this now, very, very badly. After all, she’s here and so is he and he’s shirtless and waiting for her to make a move and-

Wait.

He’s shirtless.

The sensible part of Rey’s brain catches up to the rest of her, and she freezes, just as she’d puckered her lips and was millimeters away from pressing them to the side of his left pectoral muscle. 

‘Oh, fuck,’ she thinks.

“Rey?” Kylo’s voice is slightly strained, although she’s not sure with what. She’s afraid to look up at him now, preferring to stay absolutely frozen in place. 

“Rey? Sweetheart, are you-?”

“I’m so sorry, I just had a weird nightmare and I- I’m so sorry,” she blabbered, finally getting control back over her limbs. She unlocks her arms and tries to push away, even though she doesn’t want to. 

She doesn’t want to be alone again. 

But Kylo’s arms don’t respond in kind; instead, they tighten, refusing to let her pull away.

“Rey,” he tips her face to look at his, and she sees no mocking in his brown eyes. They’re warm and comforting, and Rey finds herself hypnotized by them. “I’m not going anywhere. You’re okay. You’re safe. I’m here.” His words reverberate with sincerity, making Rey melt a little. That little voice, the one of the abandoned Scavenger girl that screams ‘we don’t need you!’ goes silent, as if gagged by Rey’s other parts. 

She feels another tear slip down her cheek, and breaks their stare so she can press herself closer to him. 

After a second, Kylo unwraps his arms from around her waist. She immediately misses his heat as he maneuvers himself so he’s slightly away from her. Before she can realize why (or stumble back with perceived rejection), he leans down and scoops her up as if she was nothing, lifting her into the air. One thick arm wraps under her shoulders, the other under her knees, and Rey can’t help but let out a shocked yelp.

Later, she tells herself that it was only instinct that drove her to wrap her arms around his neck.

“What are you doing?” she means to sound fierce and strong, she really does, but her voice comes out as a whisper. 

“Don’t worry, I won’t let you go.” There’s a million ways Rey can take his words but she’s too exhausted and confused to consider them. Instead, she doesn’t protest any further as she feels him carrying her across his chambers before gently laying her down on what feels like a bed. It’s soft and luxurious, the sheets made of fine light linens like the ones on hers. But hers don’t smell like him, tobacco and forest and heaven all around her as he pulls them over her. 

There’s a dipping in the bed, and she realizes he’s joined her on it right before he wraps her back up into his embrace. He somehow snakes one hand under her shoulders, and up across her back to where he can idly play with her hair. The other one runs up and down her arm, stroking her skin, finally banishing her shivers for good. His hand is so large that it could easily wrap around her arm, a thought that should alarm Rey.

“Shh, you’re okay,” he murmurs again. It occurs to Rey that Kylo’s familiarity with nightmares works in her favor, for once. He’s giving her exactly what he’s always yearned for when he’s woken up alone and scared.

She knows she should go, she thinks. Apologize for awakening him and return to her room, her bed. Sleeping next to him, needing him, this is dangerous. It’s exactly what she feared, but right now, she still can’t care enough to bring herself to leave. After all, she rationalizes, she’s slept next to him, _with_ him through their Force connections almost every night, now. This is fine. She’ll be fine. Tomorrow, they can go back to normal but tonight? 

She’s not going anywhere tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, well that's gonna be a problem. The dream, not the cuddles. I don't think anyone's complaining about the cuddles. 
> 
> Just a reminder again that any deviations to my regular posting schedule will be announced on my tumblr, [itsalilah.tumblr.com](http://itsalilah.tumblr.com) (please see the chapter notes for the last chapter on this subject). As of right now, I'm not planning on any deviations, but they may indeed happen since this fic has a mind of its own and I can't quit my job to write fanfic. Unless you hear otherwise, I will continue posting new chapters every Sunday. I'm gonna do all I can to avoid any major deviations (like if I have to skip a week), because I am committed to seeing this through and I don't want to leave you guys hanging when y'all have been so damn good to me. 
> 
> Xoxo, Lilah.


	12. I can't see anyone but you

Rey of Jakku is a cuddler.

The thought makes Kylo’s lips curl up into a smile, even though he can’t feel his arm and he really needs to use the fresher. But his discomfort means nothing when it comes to allowing his sleeping queen to remain under Nod’s control. He’s lying on his back with his arm looped around her, and she’s pressed into his side with a leg wrapped around him, keeping him close. Kylo’s thankful that he’d drank that herbal tea before bed, because if he hadn’t woken up with such a full bladder than he would’ve with a hard on, and probably wouldn’t be able to stop himself from doing something stupid. 

Despite his full bladder, he doesn’t want to move, doesn’t want this moment to end, which is why he’s been lying here for at least ten minutes, very awake and counting Rey’s freckles to pass the time. 

He’s shocked she’s still here, to be honest. He’d expected to wake up to an empty bed (or an irate Rey - he’d figured the odds were evenly divided). Then again, he’d expected her to push him away when he lifted her up last night, re-enacting the way he’d carried her on Takodana. He definitely thought she’d bolt when he’d laid down in bed with her. Instead, his desert girl wrapped herself around him, sleeping next to him for the duration of the night. Its why instead of being concerned about her nightmare, Ahsoka’s warning tickling at at the back of his mind, Kylo’s too busy musing over how Rey can still look so beautiful even when she’s snoring.

It’s working, he thinks excitedly. His plan is working. She’s trusting him, letting him in. She might be resisting it, but that’s his Rey - she’ll even fight herself just because its in her nature to resist. But she’s losing her internal battle, he can feel it (Hell, he can currently _see_ it - Exhibit A being that she’s using his chest as a pillow). Meaning all of his restraint, cold showers and painful denial is paying off. 

His heart patters like a schoolboy’s, another reaction that _should_ make him afraid of her power over him. But it doesn’t, because Kylo Ren and Ben Solo have never done anything half-heartedly. When they’ve wanted something, become interested in something, its always been to the point of near obsession. (Okay, yes, with Rey, just plain old obsession, but that’s not the point.) 

The thin brunette shifts in her sleep, muttering something about porgs, and her leg slips further up, painfully high, so that her bony knee sits right on top of his bladder now. Fuck. He has to move now, and he oh so gently pushes her leg down and away. In response, she rolls over, tucking her backside close to him and freeing all but his arm. 

Kylo counts to ten in his head before he slowly slips his trapped appendage out from under her. Once it pops free he begins wiggling his fingers, waiting for sensation to return. 

Rey only stirs slightly, cocooning herself in his black sheets at the loss of his warmth. Kylo pulls the comforter up around her, tucking it over her shoulders. He can’t resist brushing his lips against her soft cheek, breathing in her scent one last time. 

She smiles in response, pretty pink lips curling up like a loth-cat's.

“Kylo,” Rey sighs in her sleep, and he stills, spellbound. “I’m still not gonna let you eat the porgs.” 

He has to bite down on his hand to keep from laughing aloud. He doesn’t even know what a porg is, but the absurdity of Rey’s comment is too much for the Supreme Leader. 

If Kylo Ren skipped, he’d be skipping to the damned fresher. But he’s Kylo fucking Ren, so he does not skip, but he also doesn’t stop smiling as he begins his morning routine. 

He’s definitely not letting her sleep alone again tonight. 

==================

Rey fucking hates meditating.

It’s supposed to bring one calm, peace, serenity. Clear your mind of errant thoughts, relieve you of your stress. Blah, blah, blah.

For Rey, it does the exact opposite of these things. Staying still has never been a scavenger’s forte. Doing so invites danger, either through an attack or starvation. Now, even with a full belly and no rational reason to suspect an immediate attack, her scavenger instincts refuse to allow her mind to clear. Instead, Rey’s brain zooms down a million different paths, musing on all sorts of things. Then she remembers that this is the exact opposite of meditation, and grows frustrated with her inability to complete such a simple task. Her feet twitch, her fingers rub against each other. Her nose, her scalp, her back starts to itch until that’s all she can focus on. 

Luck would have it that Kylo Ren also sucks at meditation, and Rey can’t help but wonder if that only amplifies her restlessness. Snoke’s training never lauded such stillness, the need for mindlessness. Snoke needed Kylo bound by his anger, and Kylo was all too happy to remain chained. 

Until he met Rey.

The irony that Kylo was the one to recommend attempting meditation today, _now_ , doesn’t escape Rey. She’d woken up in his bed, warm and content, last night’s nightmare a distant memory. When she’d met Kylo for breakfast, he’d pressed her about what happened, why her dream scared her so. But Rey could only remember the panic, the fear of loss, of failure, nothing more. She remembered there were people, and she wasn’t really one of them (although one had borrowed her body), but she couldn’t remember any of the words said. She remembers nothing of significance, nothing other than the intense emotions of the nightmare. 

It’d actually led to their first argument since Rey’s arrival. Kylo thought Rey was hiding something from him, or, how did he say it? “Shutting yourself off as usual.” That hadn’t gone well. But after a few minutes of traded barbs, Rey, in an oddly trusting moment of frustration, had lowered her shields and let her Bondmate into her mind. 

(Well, actually, she’d gripped his face and dragged their foreheads together, screaming something like, “Just fucking do it, Kylo, I’m letting you read me. I’m _asking_ you to read me! So fucking read me!” Same thing, right?)

Either way, he’d finally delved into her mind (thankfully, he searched gently, access eased through their Bond) and after a moment, withdrew with what could only be described as an irrationally sexy pout. He found nothing, nothing other than a memory of fear and failure and heartbreak. 

Rather than erase the lines of worry from his face, this development only caused Kylo’s anxiety to grow. So he’d recommended trying meditation again, and here they were, failing miserably at it _again_. 

At some point Rey’d suggested going and viewing the lava fountains nearby as a visual to focus on, remembering the trance she’d fallen in watching the waves on Ahch-To. Kylo shot that idea down quickly, all too mindful of what happens when Skywalkers get too close to magma. 

Which is why they’ve been sitting here for the last hour, each struggling to bring their errant minds under control. Rey senses Kylo’s frustration growing, spikes of annoyance, anger, self-doubt registering through his Force signature. 

“This isn’t working, Kylo,” she sighs, finally ready to give up. “All we’re doing is getting pissed at ourselves for failing.”

“We have to learn to meditate together, Rey. Ahsoka ordered us to.” he growls in response.

“Kylo, be honest,” she says gently, intentionally choosing to use his preferred name, “have you ever been able to successfully meditate?”

He glares at her, reading her. Their shields are down, that was part of their attempting to meditate, and she can see that he’s trying to decide whether to take her question as an insult.

“I ask because I never have,” she quickly adds, and his face softens ever so slightly. 

Maybe she went a little far when she called him a nerfherder this morning. 

“No, I haven’t. The closest I’ve come is while fighting.” He admits with a shrug, although Rey senses a deep resentment at his failures here. Luke’s disappointed face flashes in his mind and they both cringe. 

“I guess… You know, when I think about it, when we fought Snoke’s guards, that felt almost like meditation to me.” Rey muses aloud, remembering how her breath filled her ears, all senses honed in on her attackers, mind empty other than her next move, the Bond allowing her to see Kylo in her mind’s eye. “I remember one morning, when I was with… you _know_. I was so frustrated I started doing practice swings with my lightsaber-“

_**My lightsaber, you mean?** _

“It called to _me_ , remember? Anyways, I got so into it, I ended up decapitating a rock and almost took out a Caretaker.”

Kylo can’t help but smile at the memory replaying in her mind, one that Rey quickly erases Luke from. 

“You really are quite the Scavenger, lifting my moves through the Bond and repurposing them.”

Rey growls at the smugness rolling off Kylo, as well as his characterization of her.

_**She can deny it all she wants, but I really was her teacher.**_

“I can hear you, remember?!?” Rey barks, and Kylo’s lips twist into a full-blown smirk. 

‘Damn him and his soft looking lips- Dammit, Rey, open mind! Open mind!’ she thinks and cuts her thoughts off immediately with a panic. Hopefully, she caught that train of thought before Kylo did.

His eyes go from dark honey to burnt umber, lowering to focus on her lips. 

“Those moves I did - that’s your routine, isn’t it? When you’re trying to calm down?” Rey quickly changes the subject, although she’s already seen the answer in his mind. 

“You want us to spar,” his eyes are still molten, but there’s a flicker of playfulness in his voice. 

“Actually, I was thinking -“

“I have training droids we can spar against. I think you’re right. It might work.” He stood up, and for once, Rey really enjoyed having their Bonded minds fully open to each other. It made thinking a lot easier, not needing to explain each other. She already knows he felt the same single-mindedness during their battle on the _Supremacy_ , she can see it as if the memory was her own. 

“They’re no Praetorian Guard, but they should do.” Kylo strolled over to the metal weapons cabinet built into his wall, opening it. He pulled out a silver cylindrical object, tossing it at her. Rey easily caught it with her dominant hand, startled to feel the familiar grooves and steel of a lightsaber. She brought it to eye level, staring at it. 

_**Vader kept the lightsabers of all the Jedi he killed as trophies. I figured this one works for you, given that you currently don’t have one.** _

Rey sees Kylo’s intent to remedy that, to help her build one of her own. The thought makes her smile, until she wonders about the Jedi that held this blade. The cylinder is smaller, slimmer than the Skywalker lightsaber she was used to. It feels built for a woman, but also lonely, like its missing a mate. 

_**Its former owner was a Jedi Knight named Serra Keto. She actually duels with two lightsabers, but I figured that’s a little much for you to get used to.** _

Rey feels only _slightly_ offended at Kylo’s assumption as she ignites the blade, brilliant emerald leaping out with that familiar hum. Keto’s saber is lighter than what she’s used to, and Rey takes a few practice swings, adapting to the different feel of the fallen Knight’s weapon. 

After a minute, she nods at Kylo, who flicks his gloved fingers in the air, activating the training droids. The door to their charging unit hisses open, and four black sparring droids walk out, the hiss and static crackle of their vibroblades echoing through the room. 

_Only four?_

_**I don’t want to lose all my training droids at once. After all, we have a lot of meditating to do.** _

The droids circle Rey and Kylo, leaving the two Knights facing away each other, blades sparking with the promise of death. 

The droids attack all at once, synchronized through their programming. Rey’s blood sings as she raises her blade, not with Dark or Light but just the _Force_.

The deep bass of Kylo Ren responds, harmonizing with Rey’s as they strike, driving their enemies back. 

Their Bond keens.

And like that, they are one.

Here, in the heat of battle, their bodies dance, minds free to enjoy the simple joy of living, fighting, breathing, striking, killing, surviving together. The droids are well-programmed, but ultimately, no match for the humans. Kylo thrusts and Rey swings, each taking down a droid on opposite sides of the room. At some point, Kylo grabs Rey’s hand as she moves past him, twirling her around him like they’re waltzing in a ballroom. Rey swings, using the momentum to take out an alarmed third droid with ease and grace, as if they’ve rehearsed this move a million times. While she strikes, Kylo raises his saber to block a blaster shot from the last droid, protecting Rey’s vulnerable backside with a flick of his wrist. Once she’s back on her feet he’s advancing on their final nemesis, and with a growl he raises his arms, slicing the droid in half before it fully realizes the threat upon it. 

The sound of her breath, his breath, their breath, inhaling and exhaling in tandem fills her ears. They’re both panting, and Rey can feel the sweat trickling down both of them. She scans the room once more for danger. Once satisfied, Rey’s hazel eyes come to rest on her Bondmate across the room. His black hair, messy and slightly matted with sweat, but he’s otherwise untouched. 

Kylo’s dark eyes, almost black now, focus on Rey. Specifically, on her face, their irises locking as he tosses his saber to the side. His eyes speak of hunger, need, desire, want.

Just like on the _Supremacy_.

Except now, there’s no Resistance fleet to distract her, to make her run away as he begins purposefully striding towards her. No empty throne to call to him as she steps forwards, her pace urgent, needy. 

They meet in the middle, his gloved hands coming to gently grab the sides of her face, softly tilting her lips up. Even through the slick leather she can feel the heat of his touch. Her hands rest on his covered wrists, but not in warning, and they slide down his arms. 

Their gaze doesn’t break until the second before his lips are on hers. Only then do they close their eyes as his lips skim over hers, oh so sweetly, teasing.

But Rey’s tired of teasing, and she lifts herself enough to snag his mouth with hers, locking them together. His kiss is fire and forests, both feeling like home and heaven and sin all in one. She tastes the salt of his sweat, the musk of his mouth. Her hand trails further up his sleeve, over his shoulder, to the nape in his neck where it curls into the short hairs there. 

Even damp, his hair’s as soft as she dreamt it.

Kylo tilts her head back further with his fingers, deepening the kiss. One hand removes itself from her cheek, wrapping around her waist to press her against him. Her body arches towards him on its own, needing him closer, _closer_.

His tongue flicks at her lips ever so gently, and she willingly parts them, opening to him. She’s never been kissed like this before, going solely on instinct and their shared dream. But he doesn’t care, and neither does she, as the tip of his tongue delves into her open mouth, flicking at her own. It’s another kind of duel, Rey thinks, but one that sets every nerve in her skin on fire. The coil in her stomach tightens, and she lets out a little mewl of pleasure. Apparently, Kylo likes her noisy; he responds by groaning into their kiss and its the sexiest sound Rey’s heard in her entire life.

She wants to find all the ways that make him groan.

As if hearing that thought cross her mind, Kylo pulls her closer still, _**more**_ , sliding his hand on her jaw up into her hair. 

Somewhere, in the very back of their minds, they know they’re both screwed. No going back now. No more pretending, denying. 

Neither of them currently give a single fuck.

=========================

Whoever keeps comming Kylo Ren needs to die in a fire. 

His commlink’s been going off for a solid two minutes and Kylo Ren is determined to ignore it. He can’t answer it now, not when his lips are moving against Rey’s pink ones, tasting the sweetness of her mouth, lips as soft as he’d imagined. She’s sunlight in his arms, he thinks as he breaks away from her mouth to let her breathe, dropping little kisses down her neck. Her skin is salt and hot, her breath hitching when he ever so gently nips at her flesh. 

Shared dreams have _nothing_ on the real thing. 

His damned commlink chirps again, and Rey sighs, annoyance blossoming in her mind. 

“Shouldn’t you get that? It sounds important-“ her voice is breathy with lust, causing Kylo to cut her off by returning his lips to hers.

_**Nothing is as important as you.** _

She melts a little at this, and he marvels at how his beautiful desert girl still doesn’t get how much she means to him. He intends to show her; or at least show to the extent that she’ll let him.

The chirping noise grows louder, and Kylo knows she’s going to pull away before she actually does. 

“Kylo,” she pants, attempting to sound stern but failing miserably. 

“They can wait,” he goes to kiss her again but she dances away from him. Her eyes are totally green now, pupils blown wide and she’s still panting. She’s trying to look serious and failing miserably, although he’s not going to tell her that.

“So can I. Take the call, Kylo. Then we can focus,” she admonishes with a flirtatious grin. Her lips are mauve and plush, kiss bruised as she works to catch her breath.

Kylo growls in response, ripping the commlink from his belt and flicking it on. “What!” he barks. ‘This’d better be a fucking emergency.’

“Supreme Leader, is everything all right? I’ve been trying to reach you for a few minutes now.” Hux’s slime oozes out of the small metal cylinder, and its all Kylo can do to keep himself from throwing the commlink into the wall. 

“I. was. busy.” His voice promises suffering, and he wonders if he can Force-choke Hux from here. “Pray tell, General Hux, what in the Gods’ names has you hailing me so urgently?”

Rey muffles a giggle from where she stands, still looking flushed from Kylo’s mouth. He can see the smallest red mark starting to bloom on the side of her neck, a souvenir from his teeth on her delicate skin. It fills him with pride, the idea that he’s marked her as _his_ , all his, finally his. 

Just like she marked him back on Starkiller Base. 

“It appears that the Resistance is on the move. They’re tracking some ship. It appears to be the same one that was logged by having communications issues a few weeks ago, and now the Resistance is tracking it. Our scanners only detect two people aboard-“

“Who are our people, General Hux, and I am quite aware. The ship came into our possession recently and we’re trying to figure out its purpose.” Kylo coldly cuts Hux off, rolling his eyes at Rey. He can hear the ginger General’s smugness evaporate.

“I - no one informed me of this-“ Hux squawked indignantly. Kylo sighs, pulling Rey back into his arms, letting her lean against him. Touching her will keep him from killing Hux and he really, really wishes he didn’t need to keep the General around right now. 

“No one informed you of this because you didn’t need to know. It’s a covert operation being led by Kittara Ren. Whom you should’ve gone to first instead of bothering me.” Kylo’s voice is steel but his eyes are ochre warm as Rey runs her fingers up and down his left arm, soothing his temper. As Hux begins sputtering about how he’s still third in command and needing to be involved, Kylo leans down to capture Rey’s lips with his own again, threading his free hand in her hair. She gasps, almost loud enough for the comm to pick up, but happily leans into his kiss.

_**Quiet, sweetheart,**_ he teases through their Bond, and Force, did she just kiss him harder at that?

Kylo files that information away for another time as he (very regretfully) pulls away from her mouth, hoping the comm missed the audible smack as he did so. 

“General Hux, the command structure is clear. My instructions were clear. You must report to Kittara Ren, there’s no need to pester me, especially since I already knew more than you.” 

The comm is silent, and Kylo’s the one to sigh now. He hates the politics of running the Force-damned galaxy. He can practically hear Hux sulking (and plotting while he does). 

Fuck, now he has to play nice. 

“General Hux, I hear you recently took a trip to Jakku?” he changes the subject casually, throwing Snoke’s rabid cur a bone to keep him from being mauled today. He distracts himself by strumming his fingertips up and down the back of her arm, watching goosebumps appear in his wake. 

“Ah, yes, I did, Supreme Leader,” Hux preens. “I’d received some information that that Girl, the Jedi Girl, returned back to her home Hellhole. Unfortunately, that information was wrong, but I can say that it appears that she’s not on Jakku, no one’s seen her since she took off.” 

Kylo’s entertaining himself and Rey by kissing down her neck again, now focusing on the opposite side. She’s breathing hot, ragged breaths against the shell of his ear, shivering with each kiss. 

_I’m somewhere way, way better than Jakku_ , she half-moans into his mind, taking it upon herself to press even closer, grinding against the hard length trapped in his pants. Kylo almost moans himself at the delicious friction from her body, and involuntarily bites down into her flesh to keep himself from doing so. 

To his delight, Rey responds by dropping her head back, exposing more of her neck, and wrapping a slender leg around his hips. He can feel her lust, her sheer need overtaking all of her senses, demanding more.

_Gods, yes, more, Kylo._

He’s never going to tire of hearing her say his name like that. He thanks the stars that she’s using his chosen name, and not his birth one. Ben carries too much baggage for him still, and he’s enjoying the one moment of emotional weightlessness he’s ever experienced.

He releases her neck, hearing Hux’s long-winded recap of his eventless trip to Jakku winding down. 

_**Oh, that’s definitely going to leave a mark.**_

_Mmm, s’only fair_ , she purrs, and begins kissing her own path down from his ear to his neck, each peck going straight to his cock. 

“General, while I’m sorry to hear that your mission was fruitless, I do appreciate your initiative,” Kylo sounds to sound as level and unbothered as possible as Rey continued to blaze a trail down his neck. She switches sides, raising her head enough to start kissing down his scar. It’s sweet and tender and intimate and Kylo shivers with desire. 

_Mine_ , she growls, mimicking him before, every bit the Scavenger guarding her territory. 

Kriff, her fierceness only makes him harder. 

“Well, thank you, Supreme Leader, I do appreciate that.” Hux, oh, poor Hux, takes any praise and latches onto it like the leech he is. His smarminess kills the moment ever so slightly, or it does until Rey grinds herself against him again. Her grin is wicked and delicious and Kylo really needs to end this call. _Now._

“Good. Now, I trust that resolves everything, General? I have something important I need to get back to.” He says this last part while gazing into Rey’s hazy eyes, accentuating “important” and giving her what he hoped to be a tender smile.

“Ah, yes, thank you, Supreme Leader, that is al-“ Kylo switched the comm off and proceeded to toss it across the room, very glad to be done with that obnoxious distraction. 

“Mmm, if he only knew where I was right now,” Rey whispers wickedly in his ear. Fuck, this woman is going to kill him and he’s going to enjoy every second of it. 

“Oh, he’d be livid. Absolutely crimson. Kittara would love it.” he murmurs between kisses, trying to work his way over her collarbone. He reminds himself not to take it too far, despite the insistent throbbing between his legs and her very encouraging little noises. He is not going to take his future queen on the training room floor, not for their first time. 

Kylo Ren might be a psychopath, but he’s a romantic one, dammit. 

“Kylo,” she gasps as he trails a daring hand down her torso, just slightly ghosting over the curve of her breast. “You know he’s - oh!- suspicious, right?”

With a sigh, the dark-haired prince raised his eyes to meet hers. “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but I really don’t want to talk about Hux right now.” 

She stops him from returning to his ministrations, bringing his eyes back up to hers. They’re still blurry with her desire, but concern radiates through them, bringing her back down from her lustful high.

“Ben,” she says sternly. 

“Rey,” he sighs, hoping this is just a temporary pause in their explorations. “Yes, I know. I didn’t think he’d find out about the _Ackbar_ that quickly. It’s a little concerning, yes, as it means there’s someone still loyal to him in covert operations and is feeding him intel. But, we have to wait until the time is right to remove him-“

“Or until he kills you!” There’s an angry protectiveness, almost possessiveness to her. He hears the echo of _you can’t leave me_ radiating under her words, and he pulls her tighter, tucking her head under his. She nuzzles into his neck, clearly embarrassed by her concern.

“Hux isn’t going to kill me. I promise. Kittara won’t let him, I won’t let him, and you won’t let him.” He drops a kiss on her forehead, hoping his reassurances work. He knows he should be alerting Kittara so she can start sorting out the mole, but-

“Ben!” Rey hisses, almost pulling away from him. She reaches out with the Force, calling the discarded comm back into her outstretched hand. 

Ah, kriff, right. Bond’s open, shields down, she heard that. 

“Yes, I _did_ hear that and you call Kittara right now!” 

“Kriff.”

“Now, Kylo Ren. I am going to walk away to meet you upstairs, in the library, to study, in five minutes. I take it that’s all the time you’ll need to alert Kittara.” Rey’s already walking away before he can protest. 

Studying. Great. ‘Gods damned Hux killing the mood,’ Kylo sulks. 

“Kylo,” Rey pauses, looking over her shoulder at him with a mischievous glint in her eye. “I never said _what_ we’d be studying, did I?” Her words drip with insinuation, and Kylo suddenly finds himself a very eager student. 

“Five minutes,” he nods, somber as a funeral.

“I’ll be waiting,” she purrs before she slips out the door.

Kylo bets he’ll be done in three. 

======================

Rey’s lips are swollen and her head’s in the clouds as she strolls along the black paneled corridors of Vader’s castle. Part of her still can’t process the fact that Kylo finally, finally kissed her; or that he then kissed her again, and again, and again. Allowing their minds to fully open to each other seemed to erase any of Rey’s lingering doubts and fears, and while she could feel them both re-building their walls, something tells her they’ll never be the same. 

Fuck it, she’s always been an all or nothing kind of girl. 

It was sweet, hearing Kylo’s concern echo through the Bond at moving too fast for her (for either of them). How he wanted her (their, she knows but is smart enough not to say) first time to be special. It’s those little signs of his father in him that he’d deny if pointed out, but make themselves obvious to her. 

_ Rey. _

Something whispers, tickling at the back of her mind. 

A voice, a feeling, a thought, something.

She pauses, turning slowly to look around. She’s on the ground level of the castle, where she can hear the rumble of the active volcanoes close by. 

_ Rey. I need you. _

Something wary and warning pricks at her neck, telling her to turn around, walk away. Call for Kylo.

_We need you._ The voice is urgent and desperate, and Rey doesn’t even know she’s walking towards an exterior exit till she bursts through a door and sucks in superheated air.

_ Rey. Come to us. _

_ Rey. _

Entranced, she follows the whispers, each step not of her own will but unable to protest either. Her feet lead her deeper into the black obsidian fields surrounding the castle. 

_ Rey. _

She follows the compelling whispers, face blank and all prior hesitance forgotten. 

_ Padmé. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is brought to you by Kylo's Smoldering Stare.
> 
> Well, we finally got a kiss, y'all! Hell, we got makeouts ('cause Space Virgins) and maybe even a slight foray into some kinks? Too bad Hux had to go and kill the moment... as well as that weird disembodied voice. Wonder who it could be? 
> 
> Is 'cockblocking with the Force' a tag? It should be. 
> 
> Would love to hear y'all's thoughts on these developments, and as always, thank you all for continuing to read, subscribe, comment, leave kudos, or send me love on my tumblr. I posted [a fun bit on some of the Easter Eggs I've left in this fic](https://itsalilah.tumblr.com/post/174123111126/fun-facts-so-heres-some-safe-harbor-easter-eggs) earlier this week, for anyone interested, and will continue to do that on my Tumblr (since I don't want to leave excessively long chapter notes here).


	13. I Only Have Eyes for You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last week, Kylo and Rey had just finally kissed (and kissed, and kissed, and kissed) before being very rudely interrupted by a very persistent Hux. Unfortunately, this gave The Voices an opportunity to call to Rey again, and our intrepid heroine decided to answer the call, even though the caller's asking for a Padmé. That can't be good.

The proximity alarm blares before Kylo wraps his call with Kittara, causing him to curse loudly into the comm. 

“Kylo, what the Fuck-!”

“Rey!” he growls, already sensing his Bondmate’s absence. He drops his metal commlink, letting it roll away to some forgotten corner as he bolts from the training room and into the hallway. Panic grips him, his heart thundering in his ears as he wonders what the fuck Rey’s playing at. Leave it to Rey to specifically ignore his orders and go out onto the surface.

_**Rey, what the fuck are you doing?**_ He yells through their Bond, furious with her foolishness burning through him. 

He doesn’t feel her respond. In fact, he feels… something that is not Rey calling back at him, something dark and dangerous. His blood chills as he yanks on their Bond with the Force, hoping to get her attention.

_**REY!** _

_ Padmé. _

Kylo Ren is one hundred percent sure that whoever just responded to him is not Rey. 

In fact, he thinks with a sinking stomach, he knows exactly what that was.

Oh, fuck. 

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.

Kylo shoves through the same door that Rey just had, somehow compelling his feet to run faster as he headed towards the blip of her Force signature, moving steadily in front of him towards a long-abandoned landing pad, perched above a river of lava. 

Fuck.

===================

By the time Kylo reaches the landing pad his lungs are burning from the sulfur dioxide, nostrils filled with the smell of rotten eggs. His feet are too hot, sweating in his boots, and he knows the soles are soft from the heat of the ground. He ignores all this, his mind focused solely on Rey as he whirls around the landing pad wildly, eyes frantically searching for her. 

He doesn’t see her, and fear slices through his heart as he keeps reaching out through their Bond, desperate.

All he sees is red-orange rock and flames. For a second, he senses the tiniest blip of her Force signature, calling out, before being smothered by something dripping oily black.

_You’ve betrayed me!_ The voice ringing in his head is not Rey’s, it’s (first of all) male and shares Kylo’s Republican accent, nevermind its odd familiarity to the dark-haired Knight. It’s also filled with rage and hate, two emotions Kylo’s experienced from Rey before, but never in this manner. 

Even at her darkest, her light has always called to him. 

There’s no light in this voice. 

Then Kylo crumples to his knees, hands reaching for his throat as a powerful Force choke grips his trachea, cutting off his airway. He still can’t see her, but he feels waves of hurt and betrayal radiating through him, threatening to overtake them. 

For a second, he sees a sobbing brunette with a silver circlet over her forehead, hands clawing at invisible ones around her throat. The Force tries to drag him further into the vision, the swirl of powerful emotions ( **betrayal, loss, so much loss, I gave you everything** ) threatening to overtake him. 

He grabs onto his Bond with Rey, wrapping it around him like its a rope lifting him to safety, fresh air, as he pushes back against the trapped memory with everything he’s got. He’s ripped back to the present, but the invisible hands around his neck haven’t gone away. 

Rey now stands on the platform before him, having slipped out from her hiding spot while the vision distracted him. Her hand’s extended, fingers curled into a fist and oh, Kylo sees that its got Rey’s body but something else has taken over his girl. Her beautiful hazel eyes have turned to shimmering gold, leaking with malice. Sith eyes, he thinks. 

She speaks again in that foreign voice, screaming at him. _You brought him here to kill me!_

**Make him see, I could never, I love you** , something feminine cries in his head, threatening to overtake him. The same woman from the memory, she’s scratching at him now, desperate to possess Kylo. 

His heart drops as the female presence confirms his suspicions, taking control of his mouth for a flitting second before he can wrest it back. 

**”I can’t breathe, we can’t breathe, please! Anakin!”**

He’s hearing the final desperate moments of his grandmother’s life, and Ahsoka’s warnings about Force-trapped emotions ring through his brain as the world around him starts to dim. He’d never heard of a Force-memory possession before, though, but then again, nothing is normal when it comes to Skywalkers. 

He’s fighting unconsciousness now, the sulfuric air and Anakin’s Force choke stealing what little oxygen his lungs began with. Kylo’s not giving up, he can’t, he knows how this ends and he’s not losing Rey, not now (not ever), he pleads as he uses the Force to pry the imaginary fingers off his throat. Kriff, his grandfather’s strong, he thinks, even this echo of his memory, his emotions, are formidable, even for Vader’s own heir. 

Padmé’s emotions still rip at Kylo’s mind, although they’re weaker than Anakin’s. As much as it hurts, Kylo Ren shoves his grandmother’s memory away, her last thoughts echoing with heartbreak and failure and **Anakin, I love you, I love you, don’t leave me**.

Right as the blackness creeps over his vision, he’s able to finally break from his possessed love’s Force choke away. With a giant gulp of burning air Kylo bursts forward, back on his feet. He grabs onto Rey’s thin shoulders, pulling her away from the decrepit edge of the landing pad (one resting over the lava lake, as Kylo very vividly remembers how this ended for Anakin and not wanting the same fate for Rey). 

Once he has her safely away from the edge, he searches her eyes, batting away the continued attempts to Force choke him or push him away. 

“Rey! Rey, sweetheart, come on, fight it, you can fight this, come back to me!” he’s calling out with his voice and his mind, yanking as hard as he could on their Bond as if towing her back to him.

_“You left me. I did everything for you, I offered everything for you and you betrayed me! You left me!”_ Kylo Ren looks into the lost eyes of his grandfather, the irony of the words not lost on him. They’re eerily familiar to the first words he’d screamed at Rey after Crait, during their first Force connection, when he was still wounded and angry and licking his wounds. 

Another grab at his throat, and this one lands. Before, the choke was meant to incapacitate Padmé, but this one’s clearly meant to do more damage.

Kylo does the only thing he can think to do.

_**I’m sorry, sweetheart**_ , he tells her before he waves his hand, knocking Rey out with the Force. She immediately crumples, the Force memory not expecting such an attack and deviation from its script. Kylo lurches forward to catch her lithe body before she hits the ground. He scoops her up into a bridal carry, this time feeling far more like Takodana than last night. 

‘What is that saying about history rhyming? Because with our family, its a Gods damned sonnet,’ he thinks as he makes for Vader’s castle as quick as he can. He needs to get her back to safety before she wakes up.

Or at least, he hopes its Rey who wakes up.

Halfway through the cooled lava plain, feet now more than uncomfortably sweaty and wheezing from the voggy air, Kylo sees the lights of a ship overhead, shrieking towards the landing port at the castle. The familiar wingspan and presence aboard tells him its Kittara Ren on his shuttle, undoubtedly flying into action the moment she heard the proximity alarm over the comm. 

‘Shit,’ he thinks as he runs towards the ship, clutching Rey closer to his chest to prevent jostling her too much. _Mirrorbright’s_ not ready yet, and there’s no safe chambers for Rey on the _Finalizer_. He wonders if he can safely keep Rey here for just awhile longer, just long enough to secure - 

**Kylo Ren. Take her and get off this planet. Now.** That voice rings in his head again, except now it sounds a little older, deeper, the scars of loss and hurt making it almost gravelly. It feels fresher, more substantive, and Kylo knows this is no memory calling to him.

_**Grandfather.**_ It’s not a question. This isn’t Darth Vader, no. 

This is Anakin Skywalker, in the flesh.

**Not quite in the flesh.**

Oh good, ghost voices can smirk. That’s just fabulous.

** Ben Solo, you need to leave this place. Get Rey away from here. Leave Mustafar. Now. **

For once, Kylo Ren decides not to take umbrage with the use of his dead name; nor does he argue with his grandfather. After all, he’s waited thirty years to talk to him, arguing now would just be rude. 

**Oh, thank the Force one of my descendants has some common sense. Now, go!** Despite the screaming fatigue of his lungs, Kylo swears he feels his legs pump faster over the rocks, as if his grandfather’s lending him strength. He finally makes it back to the castle, veering straight to the landing pad where Kittara’s just lowering the ramp to his shuttle.

“Kylo, what in the seven hells happened- oh, shit!” His second in command meets him halfway, heels echoing against the metal plates of the ramp. Kittara Ren visibly pales at seeing the very unconscious Rey and very disheveled Kylo Ren, both with singed clothes and ash streaked faces. 

“No time to explain, just get us the fuck out of here, Kittara!” Kylo pushes ahead, thundering into the ship with Rey. He’s not stopping until she’s secured on his ship.

He’s not letting Mustafar win when he’s so close to getting her back.

Kittara doesn’t hesitate, following on her Master’s heels and heading for the cockpit as Kylo kicks open the door to the small medbay, laying Rey down on the white padded bed in the center of the room. He’s able to strap her in, for both of their safety, before the shuttle takes off with a jolt. He staggers as the ship rises, lifting off with more urgency than smoothness. 

Kylo feels the sweltering heat of Mustafar drift away as they rise further. As the distance between the ship and Mustafar grows, their Bond thrums again. It feels like its stretching as if waking back up from a long slumber, and Kylo’s finally able to take deep breaths again, clean, filtered oxygen chasing the vog out of his blood.

Their Bond settles with a sigh back to its normal hum, looping around both their presences as if making sure neither can be taken again. The oil slick covering Rey’s Force signature dissipates, bringing back its normal glow. He smells the slightest scent of sunshine. 

She’s back, he knows, and Kylo Ren lowers his head into the top of his beloved’s chest, chanting a mantra of apologies as he waits for her to awaken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started to run out of font faces at the end there. Whew. 
> 
> Sorry for the short update today - although its early! I mentioned on my Tumblr that this was happening as I have family obligations this weekend, but am determined to give you guys the promised update and not leave y'all hanging for another week. We're back to our normal operating schedule of Sunday updates next week. Thank you all for your patience and continued support, you guys kept me going and motivated to get you this chapter!
> 
> Bisou,  
> Lilah


	14. Seven Devils

Rey awakens to the hum of hyperspace and chill of recycled air.

She’s in a soft bed, the mattress cloud-like around her sleeping form. The sheets smell freshly cleaned, almost sterile, although there’s a slight tang of her own sweat and sulfur, charred fabric. Rey opens her eyes and sees the sleek walls of a spaceship, although the bedchambers of this ship are quite … large. She’s in the middle of an obscenely sized bed in the middle of the room, low to the ground. She’s nestled beneath black linen sheets, soft and smooth on her skin, a contrast to the harsh modernism of the decor around her. It’s a familiar theme to her at this point. 

After all, once you’ve been on one First Order ship, you’ve practically been on all of them.

Thus, Rey concludes, she’s on a First Order ship, in a ridiculously large bed in spacious quarters. Meaning she’s very likely in Kylo Ren’s bed, and Rey can’t help but shiver at the revelation. 

Now, the question is just how she got her.

She hears the softest shifting and a slight snore and turns her head to the side, already knowing her Bondmate’s the source of the noise. And there he sits, propped up rather uncomfortably in a plain metal chair next to the bed. The Supreme Leader’s chin is tucked to his chest, arms crossed protectively across his chest in his slumber. Even in his sleep, a slight frown dances across his lips, brow furrowed. She thinks of how young he looks, wondering when was the last time he had a truly restful night.  
Rey lets him sleep. 

It’s clear he brought her here, which partially answers her earlier query but awakens another: _why_? She thinks back to what she remembers:

A very enjoyable first kiss and makeout session with said Bondmate, one that Rey carefully tucks away to re-examine later;

Taunting Ben after Hux’s obnoxious interruption with a promise to meet him in the library in Vader’s castle;

And then yes, walking towards the library, she remembers that, but not getting there. She remembers nothing further except a void that felt like swirling rage and blackness; choking loss and betrayal. 

A strange voice tickles at her mind, but when she pushes at the memory, it slips away from her like sand between her fingers. She huffs, frustrated at her mind’s inability to recall more. It’s something important, she can feel it, and she keeps reaching, probing without success. 

“Rey,” Kylo groans, his voice hoarse. She swivels her head back to find his dark eyes now open and very awake. They’re puffy, almost like he’d been crying, and his forehead further creases with concern as his eyes scour her face. 

“Hi,” she says back, almost shyly. Which is ridiculous, given that she’d just had his tongue down his throat… well, at some point not long ago in her memory. “What… what happened?” She’s surprised to find her voice similarly raw, throat irritated and scratchy.

“You don’t remember?” he tips forwards, eyes searching as his mind brushes into hers. As he does, she sees a flash of herself, eyes glowing golden hot, like the magma around her, as a strange, male voice comes out of her mouth. 

“No,” she admits, alarm growing. What the Hell happened to her?

“A Force memory found you.” He says matter-of-factly, his jaw twitching. “My, um, grandparents’ memory.”

She thinks back to the story Kylo told her, back on Coruscant, about the role Mustafar played in his grandfather’s fall, and shivers again, this time for an entirely different reason. 

“Rey, I’m so, so sorry. I had no idea, I’d never experienced, never felt anything like that. I never thought this would happen; I’d never put you at risk,” Kylo’s begging now, guilt pouring out of his every fiber. It breaks Rey’s heart, knowing how much abuse he’d undoubtedly inflected on himself while waiting for her to wake up. How he feared her anger, her rejection; how his anxiety took over as he imagined increasingly hostile scenarios of heartbreak and abandonment, of her assuming the worst of him like she had so many times before.

Oh, this broken boy of hers.

“Kylo. Ben. I know, it’s not your fault.” She says gently, reaching out to skim her fingers along his face. He captures them with his own, bringing her tips up to his mouth. He runs little kisses along each of them, as if searching for penance through each press of his lips. 

“Kittara warned me,” he replied softly. “But I was too stubborn, I thought that since I never experienced it there, that you’d be safe too-“

“Ben, stop. Please.” she begs, and yanks impatiently on his cowl to pull him onto the bed to her. Right now, she just wants to feel him next to her, to know that he’s safe and here and with her, that this didn’t drive him away. She doesn’t care that he’s back in his full Supreme Leader regalia, or that she’s deep in the heart of the First Order. She’s here, and she’s not running away from him. 

_I need you closer._

Kylo’s all too willing to crawl next to her, wrapping her up into his arms. He still feels like home, and Rey sighs, content, before peppering his face with kisses. 

She pretends they’ll erase his guilt.

Eventually, his dark brows relax and she feels some of the tension slip away. She doubts Kylo Ren ever truly feels at ease in this place, not even on his own flagship, in his own chambers. Not when he’s got snakes like Hux lurking in the garden, poised to strike. But Rey takes what she can get for now. Kylo’s removed his gloves and strokes her hair, using his fingers to gently de-tangle the knots created by whatever it is she went through. 

“Mmm, that feels lovely,” she purrs, nestling closer. Then, ever curious, she cracks an eye open, looking up at her dark prince. “Kylo? How’d you get me aboard?”

“I carried you,” he says simply. 

“No, I mean, without anyone knowing? Or…” her eyes grow wide, slightly concerned (although she reminds herself to breathe and trust him. What was that Kittara told her about not assuming the worst?)

“Oh, that. No one knows, don’t worry, you’re safe here. I have a private dock, and my chambers, training room and throne room are all connected without any security feed. Only Kittara and I can access these areas at will.” He pauses. “Well, she can’t exactly access my chambers at will.”

Rey can’t help but be secretly pleased at this last part. She’s hoping that eventually, they’re able to enjoy more of each other’s kisses once he’s calmed down, and Rey doesn’t want to give the Knight an eyeful. (Or more teasing material, if Rey’s being completely honest).

“I’m sorry, I never intended to bring you here. My grandfather told me I had to get you out of there, off Mustafar. I panicked, this was the closest - really the only place we had. I don’t intend for us to stay long, I just needed to get you away from there.” Through their Bond, Rey sees another flash of a memory: Kylo ordering the Fleet to move, heading back to the Core and away from Mustafar. An act which they both know surely drew some suspicion from the officers.

“Wait, your grandfather… You mean Darth Vader spoke to you?” Rey leans back, arching an eyebrow and half-wishing she got to hear _that_ conversation. She’s surprised Kylo’s not more excited about this, given his long-standing obsession with his Sith Lord ancestor. 

“Ah, no. I think it was more Anakin Skywalker.” he almost mumbles, as if embarrassed. He doesn’t seem too disappointed by his grandfather’s light-sided persona being the one to reach out to him, which is definitely progress in Rey’s book. “It makes sense, given that he turned in his final moments,” he says with a shrug.

“Hmm,” is all she says, twining one of his black curls between her fingers. 

They stay like this for awhile, bodies entwined in an intimate yet innocent way. Neither wants to let the other go, and facing whatever came next could wait. Despite both of them having their mental shields firmly in place, tidbits of memories and thoughts leak out through the Bond. They come to the silent, joint realization that their Bond is only stronger after Mustafar, perhaps because Kylo used it to bring Rey back. 

It should bother Rey more, but it doesn’t. If anything, she feels more comforted, safer than ever, even if it means Kylo can see pieces of her thoughts. She’ll deal with any potential ramifications later, she’s too emotionally exhausted now. 

Eventually, Rey becomes self-conscious of her disheveled state (and full bladder) and de-tangles their limbs to make her way to Kylo’s fresher.

“I take it I’m staying here?” she calls over her shoulder, teasingly, hoping he doesn’t say no.

“I… It’s the safest place I can keep you,” he explains, cheeks burning, and Rey can’t help but smirk.

“Kylo, its okay to admit that you want me in your bed. I think I’m past the point of denying that I like being there.” she winks, before sliding the door shut on a red-cheeked Ben.

After a delightfully scalding shower later (at least the First Order supports hydro showers and not sonics, she thinks), Rey pads back into the bedroom and her heart sinks. Not only is Kylo gone, but there’s a dress lying across his bed. It’s gray and lovely, with high slits up the side and matching gray leggings to go under, bare lace for the arms and top of her chest. There’s a structured, rigid bodice with a sweetheart neckline covered her breasts and stomach, and Rey realizes its made with blaster protection, like Kittara’s. 

‘Welcome to the First Order,’ she thinks with a sigh. 

There’s a note on top of the dress, scribbled in haste with sloppy writing:

“Don’t kill me, I haven’t yet transported the rest of your clothes here. Xo, Kittara. 

PS: Next time you get possessed, advance warning would be nice.”

Rey groans. She’s never going to hear the end of this, she knows that now from the sarcastic postscript. Even worse, Rey’s going to have to wear a kriffing dress until Kittara retrieves the rest of her clothes.

Knowing Kittara, she’ll delay that for as long as possible. 

Dammit all to Hell, Rey thinks with a sigh. 

====================

Okay, the dress isn’t the _worst_ thing Rey’s ever worn. 

Its surprisingly soft, for starters; so soft that the fabric feels like heaven on her skin. Even the lace is whisper-soft, not even irritating any of the little burn marks on her arms from where she must’ve gotten hit by a few errant flecks of lava.

Rey can also easily move in this dress, now understanding why Kittara enjoyed such high slits. They run up each side and give Rey plenty of maneuverability, effectively mitigating one of her major concerns. Rey also can’t complain much about the added protection from the bodice, given the unease slinking around the back of her brain about being trapped on a First Order ship. 

Not just any ship, the Supreme Leader’s flagship.

But perhaps the best part of the dress is the open-mouthed look that’s taken residence on Kylo Ren’s handsome face after seeing her in it for the first time. He’s returned to his (their?) chambers not long after Rey finished dressing, stopping in his tracks when he realized what Rey was wearing. 

“Too much?” she asked, trying her best to look coy as he closed the distance, all boyish hesitance forgotten as he swept her up for a heated kiss.

“I knew you two were conspiring to kill me,” he murmurs into her ear, which wrings a delicious shudder out of her. 

“Mmm,” is all she can purr back, too busy doing battle with his lips to think of a witty reply. She sucks his lower lip between hers, mimicking his earlier actions, and he moans like sin in response. 

Kriff, his voice alone should not make her thighs quake. 

He’s suddenly pulling away, chest heaving and wild-eyed, leaving Rey bewildered (and slightly disappointed). Before she can ask why, the door chimes and in walks Kittara Ren, holding two domed, covered platters that waft delicious smells Rey’s way.

“Oh, I am a genius.” Kittara grins. “Rey, that dress. My, you are stunning,” she coos, seemingly oblivious to what she’d just interrupted. 

Then Kittara looks at her leader with a raised eyebrow, and oh, no, the Knight _knows_. “Mm-hm. I’ll just leave these with you kids then. Try to devour _some_ food and not just each other, kay?” She chirps before making a quick exit (probably for the best as Kylo was looking for something to chuck at her). 

Then the Bonded pair are thankfully, blessedly alone - for now, at least. 

Kylo dashes Rey’s hopes for continuing what he started by moving to the black wooden dining table in the middle of his living area. He pulls out a matching chair, wood scraping along the polished concrete floor, and gestures for her to sit. Rey twists her face into what she hopes is a seductive pout, but it only lasts for a second before her stomach wins out. With an eyeroll, she flops down into the offered seat. It’s a little too hard of a jolt on her still too skinny buttocks, and she fights back a visual wince. Luckily, Kylo doesn’t notice as he moves to the chair opposite from hers, sitting before calmly unfolding his napkin. His outward serenity is deceiving, as Rey can sense his mind racing, and not just from arousal. 

She wonders what he was doing while she was in the fresher. 

“Supreme Leader-y things,” Kylo responds to her unspoken question with a half-smirk. He lifts the metal dome covering one of the trays, revealing grilled nerf steaks sitting on a bed of greens, juices still running down the sides, forming dark pools on the leaves. 

Rey almost drools at the smell, and has to remind herself of her manners. She at least remembers to also tuck her napkin into her lap as Kylo spoons one of the steaks and some greens onto her plate. 

“I figured heartier foods will help you regain your strength,” he says as he gracefully cuts into his steak. 

They eat in silence for a moment, Rey concentrating on not making an absolute fool of herself while eating. She’s glad Leia took the time to work on her table manners with her while she was still able, as Rey’s now able to use a knife properly. Kylo’s lost in his own thoughts, some of which slip down their Bond to Rey. Part of him fears the potential threats and ramifications of bringing Rey here, and that he hasn’t secured himself enough yet as Supreme Leader. Hux is still a serious threat, not just to himself, but to Rey, too. Especially given that Hux thinks Rey killed Snoke (an erroneous belief that, Rey notes, could be easily rectified). 

There’s another, larger part of Kylo’s thoughts which he seems more determined to keep from her, shutting them behind his shields. Rey suspects that they have to do with his plans for the First Order and how their new tutelage fits into it. She senses his reluctance at bringing her in to any of it, his concerns that she’ll misinterpret things. What things, she’s not entirely sure, and she’s unable to dig deeper without alerting him, meaning she’s left unsatisfied and curious. 

Kylo’s thoughts turn, and Rey overhears hears something about how he never expected her to ever be willingly dining with her in his chambers. She gets the sense that in darker moments, Kylo fantasized about making her his captive, and forcing her to see what he meant back in Snoke’s throne room. 

Rey resists the urge to roll her eyes at this. Of course, Kylo Ren would think this as a potential way to win her over. She’s glad he didn’t try it. She’s quite certain that it would have the opposite effect on her. 

“Rey,” Kylo breaks the amiable quiet, pulling her away from her mental eavesdropping. “While you’re here, you need to stay within the security perimeters of my private area. It includes plenty, for now, here, my training area, a workshop.” Rey’s ears perk at this last part, hands itching to tinker. “I can bring you in the Throne Room during certain times, but I don’t - I’m not sure its safe for me to reveal your presence here yet.”

_**Nor do I think you want me to.**_ His words are neutral but the implications aren’t lost on Rey. Ben keeps his eyes focused on his nerf steak, cutting into it with slightly more force than necessary. 

Rey pauses, resisting the urge to give into the sudden spark of anger at his assumption. Not that it was wrong, not at all, but she’s annoyed that he- 

‘He what, knows you so well?’ She imagines flicking that too-smug inner voice away, before considering her response carefully. 

“I’m not worried about people knowing I’m with you, per se. I- I’m,” she flounders, trying to find the right words. “My concern is undermining your leadership, putting you in even more danger. After all, rumor has it that I’m incredibly unpopular here and I’m pretty sure Hux is looking for any reason to launch a coup.”

“And here I thought you wanted me to leave the First Order,” Kylo chides, but keeping his eyes low, masked. 

“Something tells me having you as Supreme Leader’s going to help with the whole ‘bringing balance to the galaxy’ thing.” Rey retorts playfully, trying to ease a bit of the fear in his head. “Ben,” she says softly, his old name slipping out for the first time in awhile. His eyes jerk up to hers, startled, and she slips her hand overtop his. “I’m with you in this. We’re in this together. And if that means I’m standing next to your throne, if that brings us balance, peace… so be it.” She lets her eyes burn into his, pouring her intentions through the Bond. 

She’s made her decision about where she stands, and its next to him.

Kylo gives her skeptical glance, one she’d seen on his mother many times. Her words do relax him, slightly, although she still feels his worry radiating off of him.

“Hux - He’s planning something, isn’t he?” Rey prods, gently, not sure if he’s ready to engage in what would’ve qualified as “sharing intel with the enemy” just a week ago.

Kylo sighs, pushing a green leaf around his plate with his fork. “He is. We don’t know what, exactly, and we’re not sure how many are loyal to him. We don’t think its many, I’ve won over much of the officers and Hux is verifiably insane. Still, the younger officers that came up with him tend to have the same vision. Hux’s preferred style of governing makes the Empire look like a kriffing commune,” he sneers. “My biggest problem is the Stormtroopers and their ‘mental conditioning.’ As long as their brainwashing stays intact, they’ll stay loyal to Hux. That’s what they’re programmed to do - his insurance, if you will, to improve his odds of a long life.” 

None of this is necessarily news to Rey, but she stays quiet, letting her Knight continue. 

“If I were to reveal you’re here, now, it could help force Hux in a corner, but it would be risky. Kittara and I have some ideas about the Stormtroopers - I’ve instituted some friendlier programs, and my reputation with them seems to be improving.” At this point, Kylo has the good sense to look slightly abashed. “I, um, may have been a bit of a menace to them while Snoke was still alive.”

Rey bites her cheek to keep from giggling at this. She’d heard enough stories about Stormtroopers’ run-ins with Kylo Ren to know that “menace” was a serious understatement.

“It’s not that I don’t want people to know you’re here, I do, I mean, I’ve thought about this for-“

“Kylo,” Rey says softly, interrupting his nervous chatter. “I understand. Trust me, I do.” She squeezes his hand, reassuring him physically and through the Force that she actually did. Kylo raises his eyes to Rey’s, dark amber meeting light honey. 

Rey can see the tension fading in his gaze as he sees the truth in hers. 

Their Bond practically sighs with contentment, wrapping them in something warm, like the gentle rays of the morning sun. 

“Still, I think we should work on you building a lightsaber. I can help you. I’ve done it before - twice - and have all the equipment. You need a weapon.”

_**I need to know you can defend yourself.** _

Rey again finds herself fighting the urge to take his words the wrong way; to hotly assert that she can protect herself just fine, with or without a lightsaber. Kittara’s warning to not immediately assume the worst again rings in her mind, giving her enough pause to analyze the intent behind his words. Kylo Ren knows she’s capable without a lightsaber; Hell, she’s proven that personally. But he also knows a lightsaber the best weapon she, as a trained(ish) Force-user, can have, something Rey (albeit begrudgingly) knows is true. 

“Don’t tell me the First Order has a bunch of Kyber crystals just hanging around?” she asks with a raised eyebrow. Kylo knows the crystal in his family’s saber is shattered beyond repair. He’d been the one to tell her that (screamed it at her, actually) in one of their earliest post-Crait Force Bond moments. 

The downright smug grin on Ben Solo’s face, so evocative of his father’s, tells Rey that yes, the First Order does have unused Kyber crystals in its care. 

Of course. She doesn’t know why she’s surprised. 

“I have a collection in my workshop. You’re free to rifle through them, take whatever you want.” Rey knows the value of a kyber crystal, so rare after the Empire’s exhaustion of them, and the magnitude of the gift hits her. For a moment, she feels cared for, truly, absolutely. Kylo didn’t mean it to be a grand gesture but it is, not only due to the monetary value, but the implications of support, of trust behind it. He’s not building her her saber or giving her an already made one, he’s trusting her with this most difficult task, the last test of any Padawan. 

Rey can’t help but launch herself up, leaning over the table to kiss the top of her scar on Kylo’s forehead, then his nose, then his lips. Each peck is a thank you of their own, but the last one quickly grows heated. 

Kylo almost looks pained when he almost roughly pulls away from her. 

“Wait, we can’t start that yet,” he rasps.

“Why not?” Rey murmurs dazedly, eyes still half-closed and already kiss-drunk.

“Because, I had my chef make this pie just for you,” he responds, almost shyly, and then lifts the cover off the other tray to reveal a heavenly smelling pie made of purple fruit. It’s still warm enough that wisps of steam curl up off of it, bringing a tropical scent of sweetness to Rey’s nose. 

“Okay, fine, that’s a good reason,” Rey concedes, “but only until we’re done with the pie.”

================

The Force seems determined to keep the pumping the breaks on Rey and Kylo’s continued explorations of each other’s bodies, Rey thinks darkly as Kylo’s door chimes again, right as Rey shovels the last bite of pie into her mouth. Kylo seems to think the same, grunting in annoyance before barking “enter” at the door. It slides open at the command, and Kittara Ren strides in quickly, purposefully.

“Kittara,” Kylo stands from his seat, working his jaw in concern. 

“Catch,” she responds, disregarding any pleasantries as she tosses something small and wooden at Kylo’s head. Another holocron, Rey realizes. “Urgent, from Ahsoka. Says you both need to open it now.”

Kittara doesn’t leave the room this time, instead leaning up against one of Kylo’s black metal walls. With her black dress and leggings, she almost blends in, only her alabaster skin and red hair providing any contrast against the matching walls. 

Rey almost asks her to leave, wanting to keep these sessions private, but decides against it. If Kittara’s here, Ahsoka must’ve told her to stay. 

Instead, Rey makes her way around the table to Kylo’s side, looking up at him. Her heart beats wildly, nerves making her hands shake. She hopes Ahsoka’s not in trouble, that someone hasn’t tracked her through her one-sided correspondence. 

Without words, both Rey and Ben move their hands instinctively to the sides of the Holocron, as if they’ve already done this a thousand times before. 

A small version of Ahsoka’s hologram appears in front of them, projected so it looks like she’s standing on the remnants of their dessert. Her face is written with worry, and she visibly relaxes when she sees both Rey and Kylo standing before her. 

“One of you better tell me what the Hell happened,” she snaps, and it takes a second for the two to realize that what they’re touching isn’t actually a Holocron and this isn’t a recording. It’s a well-disguised comm device. Likely a burner commlink, meant for one-time use only, Rey determines. 

“Well?” Ahsoka implores, and Kylo clears his throat awkwardly

“Rey found a Force memory on Mustafar.” he says plainly. 

“And?”

“And I’m fine now, really. Just a silly mistake.” Rey steps forward, almost as if to protect Kylo from any blame Ahsoka throws his way. She can feel him bracing for it, and reminds him through their Bond that she knows it wasn’t his fault at all.

“I see that. You’re still not answering my question: What. Happened.” It’s no longer being asked, Ahsoka’s voice a fierce growl. 

The pair spend the next ten minutes offering a joint summary of the events on Mustafar. Rey’s shocked to hear how far gone she was, how far into Anakin’s grief she’d gone. She’s also a bit annoyed that Kylo didn’t previously tell her he’d felt his grandmother’s memory clawing at him, as if trying to suck him in so that it could complete the scene.

“Gods damned kriffing Skywalkers,” is all Ahsoka says at the end of it. She sighs, and turns away for a second. Rey hears the sound of liquid pouring into a glass, and Ahsoka swings back around with a small, glass tumbler in her hands. 

“Is that-?”

Ahsoka shoots Rey a warning glare, cutting her off. “Look, kiddo, I had Skyguy trying to hail me from the kriffing Afterlife to tell me something went wrong while I was trying to negotiate a pretty sweet deal on my end, and all I can get out of him is that you’re possessed on Mustafar. I deserve a few fingers of good Corellian whiskey. Fuck, I’m raising this one to Han Solo for putting up with this crazy ass family for as long as he did.” After a second, Ahsoka remembers whom she’s speaking with, and flinches. “Ah, shit, sorry Kylo.”

The usual guilt washes over Kylo, painting his features with anguish. However, his shocked curiosity at the meaning behind Ahsoka’s words inhibits and quickly overpowers his guilty conscience, relegating it to sulk in the background.

“You… knew my fa- Han Solo?”

Ahsoka sighs again, although this one’s more out of sadness than frustration. “Yeah, I ran into him a few times before he met your mom. Back in his early smuggling days.” She pauses briefly. “But that’s neither here nor there, right now. You’re both okay, then? And off Mustafar?”

“My grandfather insisted we leave,” Kylo says impassively. 

“Did he - he contacted you?” Ahsoka’s head whips up, away from her glass. 

“If his voice in my head telling me to get Rey off Mustafar immediately counts as contact, then, yes.” 

“Hm,” is all Ahsoka says, although she mutters something along the lines of “I guess I can’t fault him for that.”

Discussing her possession allows a locked door to crack open in Rey’s mind, letting the painful memories of Anakin and Padmé’s trapped emotions seep into her mind. She closes her eyes, remembering the drowning of their anguish, the blackness of betrayal, the screaming of their minds as their bodies turned away from each other. 

It’s hard not to get sucked under by the memory of just their overwhelming feelings alone, and something pricks at the back of Rey’s mind. Something that’s long bothered her, since she first heard the tragic tale of the star-crossed lovers. 

“Ahsoka, you told us that the Jedi were wrong to cut off Knights from love and attachment, that it hampered them, unbalanced them. But, wasn’t it Anakin’s love and attachment that destroyed him and Padmé?”

Kylo tenses next to her, almost going rigid at Rey’s words. Rey knows that its not just because he fears Ahsoka’s answer (and Rey’s response), but because the thought’s floated around his own mind more than once. 

Ahsoka responds with a chuckle and a long sip of her whiskey. “That’s the simple way of looking at it, sure. But the truth is, Padmé’s love kept Anakin Skywalker from falling to the ‘Dark side’” she makes quote fingers in the air at this “for a long time. Without her, I suspect he would’ve fallen before he even became my Master.”

“What do you mean?” Kylo asks, frowning slightly. Rey wonders if he’s been told the same version of events that she was given, or if Snoke actually knew something more about the rise of Darth Vader. 

“Skywalkers feel the clarion call of the Force, and of its need for Balance, more strongly than most Force users. But back then, and even now, it’s not recognized as a cry for balance, but the call of the ‘Dark Side’. Anakin felt it very strongly. And he gave in to it. More than once. He was ashamed of it, feared it. Feared that call as he feared his inability to detach, to stop feeling. I think he took it as a sign of his failure.” Ahsoka’s eyes grow distant, sad, as she recalled watching her Master’s struggle.

“The Jedi Council were particularly harsh on Anakin. They feared his powers, his intelligence, and Palpatine’s growing influence over him. The Council did all they could to push Anakin Skywalker away by betraying him, failing him, trying to put him in a mold that he’d never fit into. I didn’t fit into it either,” she admits with a flinty edge to her words.

“I knew he and Padmé were together, although I’d left the Order by the time of her pregnancy. I had no idea they were secretly married, although I certainly suspected. I think Obi-Wan knew also, although he seemed content to bury his head in the sand and hope they eventually grew out of it. I knew my Master would never. Skywalkers fall hard, and fall for good, you know?

“I think Anakin’s fear was that if the Order learned about Padmé and their unborn child, they’d take them away from him, separate them. Anakin knew he’d be lost without her, and so he kept it a secret. That secret is what allowed Sidious to manipulate Anakin into becoming Darth Vader. That - his inability to seek help due to a bunch of archaic rules and blind Masters, is why he fell. Not because he loved Padmé. But because the secret of it was his weakness, a weakness that became an infected, festering wound. Sidious further manipulated this by allowing Vader to believe he killed Padmé, when the fact was quite the opposite.”

At this, Ben sucks in his breath, eyes wide and shocked. “What do you mean,” he demanded. “What do you mean, my grandfather didn’t kill her?”

“I mean that’s what Sidious told him, but that’s hardly the truth. Anakin never intended to kill Padmé, and his Force choke only incapacitated her. She survived it, her death was, well, it wasn’t at Anakin’s hands.” Ahsoka pauses, peering at Kylo’s stricken face through the comm. “Oh, Ben Solo,” Ahsoka’s eyes grow dark with sadness as she looks at him, noticing his flinch at the use of his birth name. “Snoke told you that’s what sealed him into the Dark Side, didn’t he?” She pauses, and there’s no answer, but the look on Kylo’s face affirms that it was. “Is that how he convinced you to kill your father?”

For a second, Kylo’s façade almost breaks, and Rey sees the wetness growing in his eyes. He hangs his head low, as if broken.

“Kylo Ren. Ben Solo. Look at me.” Ahsoka says, gently, reaching towards him like she could touch his face through the commlink. “You couldn’t have known. No one told you. No one ever told you. The secret of Anakin’s wife and children allowed Sidious to manipulate him, and the secret of your ancestry did the same to you. That was your parents’ fault, your uncle’s fault.”

At the mention of Luke Skywalker, Ahsoka’s voice hardens slightly, curiously. Kylo may not notice it, but Rey does, and she cocks her head.

“Oh, yes, Rey. Just as the Jedi Council holds at least half of the responsibility for creating Darth Vader; Luke Skywalker deserves much of the blame for the rise of Kylo Ren.” Her voice is steel and filled with anger, and Rey wonders how maddening it was to watch another generation of Skywalkers fall over a bloody stupid secret. 

“Secrets are dangerous. Secrets make you weak. They can be used to manipulate you, expose you. Blackmail and corrupt you. It happened to Anakin Skywalker, it happened to Leia Organa, and it was used to get to you, Kylo Ren. Secrets are what destroyed the Jedi, not attachment, not love. In fact, Sidious convinced Anakin to keep their conversations secret from Padmé, used it to undermine their trust in each other, even. That’s why I want you both learning together, working together. Trusting each other. You both _must_ learn to trust each other, and I can see that you’re both doing so by leaps and bounds. Your Bond makes it easier, forcing you each to give up your secrets. Very helpful, especially given your backgrounds. 

“As you learn to trust each other, you’ll both become stronger, more balanced. And you’ll be more comfortable revealing yourselves to the galaxy, to each other. Eventually, you’ll learn to let others in this circle of trust. One could say you’re already starting,” Ahsoka nods towards Kittara’s silent figure, still leaning against the wall. “But that’s a long lesson, and one that will take time. 

“The point is, don’t fear attachment, my dear Scavenger,” Ahsoka says with such kindness that for once, the title doesn’t sound like an insult. “An unmoored boat gets lost in the storm, but ones with strong anchors survive. After all, who brought you back on Mustafar?” she notes with a grin, and Rey nods. The old Togruta is right, Rey knows. Kylo fought off the call of the trapped emotions, broke through her Force choke and kept her from (literally) following Vader’s footsteps. He’d saved her, and he’d done it because of his sentiment, his _attachment_ to her. 

“Kylo. I know the moral of this tale runs contrary to your instincts when it comes to Rey and your current - ah - location. I’m not saying you need to go broadcast tomorrow that you and Rey are on the _Finalizer_ and in love-“

They both blanch at this.

“Oh, please.” The former Jedi snorts, rolling her eyes at the pair. “Anyways, what I’m saying is you can’t keep it a secret from everyone for long, and its better if you’re the one controlling such a revelation. Perhaps your Counsel can help with this, she seems exceptionally gifted when it comes to political machinations. I’m rather glad she’s on our side.”

Across the room, Kittara positively beams with pride. 

“But who am I to make such political calls. The point is, you both are trusting each other, but you’ve also got to learn to trust yourselves. After all, you cannot kill the past, but you can’t let it rule your future, either.” Ahsoka nods wisely, as if her cryptic words make perfect sense. And maybe they do, to her, but to Rey, it sounds like the kind of self-help crock of shit she’d find in some sort of motivational holo. 

‘Typical Jedi,’ she thinks. She knows the Togruta is right, but damn, why can’t she just tell her how to do it?

“Because that’s something personal and unique to each person, Rey. I’m a Force-user, not your therapist.” Ahsoka smirks, and Rey realizes with a fierce blush that she’s spoken her thoughts out loud. 

“Now, keep meditating, but seriously, try with less violence. And lovebites. Don’t think I don’t see what you did to her neck, Kylo Ren, and no, orgasms don’t count as meditation. I need to go now, my guests are here and I don’t want to have to answer any awkward questions. I’ll be in touch soon. Good luck with that lightsaber, Rey. Something tells me you’ve got a very competent teacher there.” Ahsoka winks at Rey, and the human’s cheeks burn brighter. Rey can practically feel Kylo smirking at her. 

‘Oh, kriff, he’ll never let that one go.’ 

“As long as you’re together, and there’s no secrets between the two of you, you’ll be fine. Keep that Bond open, kids.” With a wave, Ahsoka terminates the connection, the blue beam of light vanishing with a blip. 

A stunned silence sinks onto the room as the three at them stare at each other, each considering the implications of Ahsoka’s impromptu lesson. Secrets destroyed Skywalkers, secrets brought them down, but what in the Hell did she intend them to do, given the situation with Hux and the First Order?

Kittara stands, moving towards a small chrome cupboard nearby. 

“Well, I need a drink,” she announces. “Anybody else?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rey woke up THIRSTY from that possession, can you tell?
> 
> Meanwhile, Ahsoka is concerned sassy mom who is just so gods damned DONE with these dumbass Skywalkers. I, for one, cannot blame her. 
> 
> Thank you all, lovely people, for hanging in there despite last week's early/short update. We're back on our regular Sunday posting schedule now and for the time being. And thank you all for all of the amazing feedback. Your kudos, comments, and hits keep me going. This week's been a huge fucking roller coaster for me, from my fury over the treatment of Kelly Marie Tran, then the Caps brought the Cup home (native Washingtonian and WE ARE THE CHAMPIONS), but then one of my idols, Anthony Bourdain, left us and I got drunk on negronis and bourbon and cried while watching old episodes. So when I needed to pick myself up and get myself in the writing mood, those comments especially were very helpful. 
> 
> Next time: Kittara has a plan!(TM). And Rey finally gets a glass of Gatorade. Sorry, did I say Gatorade? I mean Ben Solo. She gets a tall glass of thirst-quenching Ben Solo.


	15. That's Great, It Starts With an Earthquake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone! (I know, weird, chapter notes at the beginning, wtf?) This week's installment is being broken up into three separate chapters, as Chapter 16 **will contain smut**. That's right, I'm keeping my promise to break all the smutty bits out and keep 'em separate from the main plot. So, three Chapters today, enjoy, love you all, and omgi'mgoingtohellforthis. 
> 
> See y'all in the notes at the end of Chapter 17!

Two bottles of wine, several arguments and four smashed objects later, the trio of two Knights of Ren and one almost Jedi arrive at some sort of agreement on a plan of action. It certainly hadn’t been a quick or easy path: by the end of their discussion, the itch in Rey’s throat has grown to a burn from yelling, and she’s nursing her guilt over losing her temper and throwing one of the empty wine bottles at Kittara. 

Even though it was all Kittara’s fault, Rey assures herself. For once, Kittara couldn’t (wouldn’t) understand that, while Rey’s perfectly happy to tell the universe that she’s allied with Ben Solo/Kylo Ren; she’s got a lot of concerns about announcing the same in regards to the First Order. Kittara, of course, took that as a slight against Kylo, leading to a heated argument over whether Rey was really “letting go and trusting” or some banthashit. Finally, Kittara’s words landed an emotional blow on Rey, leading Rey to launch the aforementioned the wine bottle at Kittara’s stupid head. Kittara responded in kind by Force pushing Rey back into a wall. Naturally, Kylo immediately leapt into the fray to protect Rey, which is how Kylo ended up Force choking his right hand woman until they’d all agreed to a truce. 

As brutal as it was, the argument proved to be cathartic, allowing the three conspirators to get all their feelings on the table. There was a lot of pent-up frustration, all based in their fear of failure, discovery, and death. It was a moment of growth for sure, Rey thought, given that no one died and everyone was honest. Rey felt especially proud for all the times she resisted the urge to flee the room, find a ship and blast out into space, even when overtaken by her own internal darkness or faced with hard truths. 

(Hard truths such as the reality that allying with Kylo meant, for the time being, allying with the First Order.)

Whatever.

All in all, Rey chalks the night up as a win. 

After wrapping up their prerequisite violence towards inanimate objects, things had actually settled down into an actually productive conversation. Rey discovered far more about the First Order power structure than any Resistance intelligence ever revealed. Kylo had previously explained to her how the Stormtrooper Army was solely under Hux’s control, giving the General a dangerous and unnecessary amount of power. But Kylo expanded on this topic more after calming down (and allowing his second in command unimpeded access to oxygen). 

It turns out this division between First Order assets was by design, a relic of Snoke’s meant to help ensure a division between Kylo and Hux’s powers. It was also surely meant to keep the two at each other’s throats, a safeguard meant to protect the shriveled old predator from a coup. (Rey smirked at this, as did Kittara. Kylo’d just looked annoyed at being interrupted.) After declaring himself Supreme Leader, Kylo had immediately removed the Fleet from Hux’s control, reassigning it to an Admiral loyal to Kylo (and loathing of Hux). Naturally, this had unhinged the power-hungry General, and likely led him to start generating far more serious plots against his new Supreme Leader. 

Additionally, Kylo had always lead the TIE fighters into battle as the best pilot in the Order, giving him control over the First Order’s pilots. This dynamic had not changed since Kylo’s ascension, which created a point of great contention between Kylo and his counsel, as Kittara pointed out (with a snarl) that the Supreme Leader “flitting around in his super special, super obvious TIE _Silencer_ is asking for trouble.”

“I do not flit about in my _Silencer_ ,” Kylo growled back. 

The First Order’s Intelligence, which had always been under Kylo’s purview, was now run by Kittara, for obvious reasons. First, Kylo now handled actually governing the Order and the systems under its control, playing politics while trying to slowly peel away some of its more inhumane and despotic practices. Never a big people person, Kylo clearly despises this aspect of his job, and Kittara obviously assisted where she could, handling much of the diplomatic requirements (which were, admittedly, always tied to the First Order’s intelligence operations anyway). The second reason for giving Kittara control of intelligence was the woman’s innate prowess when it came to all things espionage. Kylo had also given Kittara control of the First Order’s powerful (yet previously less than successful) propaganda machine, something which Hux vehemently protested. Kittara used her intelligence briefings to turn the fumbling department into one of the First Order’s most accomplished and exacting weapons, cutting away at the Resistance perhaps more than their troops ever could. Rey already knew how frighteningly effective Kittara’s publicity campaign had been, and briefly thanks the Stars that Kittara’s on Kylo’s side. 

Kylo’s lecture impresses upon Rey that, while inroads had been made, there was still long ways to go when it came to truly securing his position and the direction of the First Order. The threats weren’t just limited to Hux: Some of the older officers, those who came from the Empire, disliked Kylo’s moderately less tyrannical approach to government. Interestingly, these officers also disliked Hux, knowing that under him, they’d all be needlessly sacrificed to his endless bloodthirst. Thus, self-preservation currently kept them with Kylo Ren, but for how long was the question. This revealed another area of hot debate between Kylo and Kittara over whether Kylo should reveal his birth name (and ancestry) to the officer’s gentry, as the Heir of Vader would certainly shore up support with the old-school contingent.

But Rey’s quickly learning that for every positive there’s a negative, and revealing Kylo to be Ben Solo, Grandson of Darth Vader could very well work against them with some of planetary political leaders. These leaders, which had willingly yet unhappily joined the Order, still deeply distrust the Order, the obliteration of Hosnian Prime fresh in their minds. Given that Vader helped blow up Alderaan, it was easy to see why such a revelation wouldn’t ease their concerns. 

Adding to the political dissent were the planets beholden to slavery, none of which were thrilled with Kylo’s decree ceasing that practice. (Ironically, this delighted most of the leaders in the first category, proving Kylo’s point that when it comes to ruling the Galaxy, you’re damned if you do and you’re damned if you don’t.)

No wonder he was always so frustrated.

Thus, the best way to currently describe Kylo’s security as Supreme Leader is somewhere above “tenuous” and below “solid”, meaning Hux’s machinations present a significant threat given the numbers of potential allies.

Because of this, the trio agreed that any revelation of Rey’s current location, while inevitable, will likely cause Hux to speed up his planned coup d’etat. For that reason, they decide to wait to strategically reveal her “defection” to Hux until after Rey finishes building her new lightsaber, as they’ll all need to be armed and ready. 

The conversation then shifted back to the Stormtroopers, as Kittara’s now working on convincing Kylo to allow his three personal guards to meet Rey and learn her identity. Kylo and Kittara have both been working on some plot to corrupt the Stormtroopers’ mental programming by exploiting some potential vulnerability. Kittara thinks introducing them to Rey is the perfect test to see if the corruption’s taken hold.

“We can just tell them that she’s decided to join you and work with you to restore order to the galaxy or some bantha shit spin like that.” Kittara pleads, but Kylo’s face remains unchanged. “Oh, will you just come off it! Three troopers won’t do shit to Rey, lightsaber or not, and you know it. Besides, you know as well as I do that we have to find a way to test their loyalty to see if we’ve been able to compromise them, and this is the perfect opportunity to do so!”

The deepening in Kylo’s grimace tells Rey that he knows Kittara’s right, but the man takes his pledge to protect Rey seriously. She detects his feelings warring over the bond, rationality raining blows down on his instinctual need to defend Rey from any threats. 

Rey decides to break in, hoping that in doing so, she’ll remind Kylo that she is perfectly capable of making decisions regarding her own personal safety, thank you very much. 

“Explain this to me again, please? What exactly is this vulnerability?” Rey asks, not quite following their back and forth. After all, she should probably fully understand what she’s about to volunteer herself for.

Luckily, Kylo’s so deep in his inner turmoil that he completely misses that thought and takes the bait, hook, line and sinker. 

“Remember how I told you that Hux has the loyalty of the Stormtroopers?” Kylo began, and Rey nods, encouraging him to continue. “Stormtroopers undergo intense ‘mental programming’ as part of their training in our programs. What this extreme brainwashing entails isn’t just propaganda, but emotional conditioning also. Stormtroopers are taught to abhor any attachments. They think only of their mission and the Order, which they must be completely and absolutely loyal to. They’re trained to only think in the terms of chain of command, of which, Hux is at the top. The result is that they follow the chain of command and report everything, everything to their higher-ups and follow command’s orders to a ’t’. That’s how Hux has the total loyalty of every Trooper in my Army.” Kylo explains, pausing only to sip from his wine glass.

“For the longest time, Hux’s programming seemed unbreakable, although I always suspected that it was a matter of time.” Kylo’s jaw starts working itself, betraying his disgust for the General. “I observed their reports closely, always watching for any flaws or holes. There were certainly cases where it appeared the programming was eroding, usually through small infractions - sleeping in, arriving seconds too late, hesitancy during drills. However, Hux and Phasma were always quick to catch them before things broke down any further, sending them back for reconditioning at the first sign of trouble. Of course, they kept any such incidents quiet, not wanting to alert Snoke - or myself. Reconditioning is a grueling and frankly torturous practice that involves breaking the Trooper mentally. In order to keep anyone from noticing, the practice is rushed and even more brutal. More often than not, it leaves the trooper completely mentally incapacitated - catatonic. In those cases, there was no information to glean from them when it failed as to why.

“But then, I observed a most curious inconsistency. During a mission to the desert planet Jakku, I noticed one of the Stormtroopers on my mission with me break protocol and disregard orders. He seemed panicked, especially after he watched a comrade fall to a blaster shot. It appeared that there was some sort of emotional connection between the two, as I observed the fallen trooper put his hand on his colleague’s head before dying. The surviving Trooper then continued to disobey orders, even after he realized that I was watching him.” Kylo chuckles, as if amused at the thought of some pithy Stormtrooper defying him, the great and fearsome Kylo Ren.

“This was simply extraordinary, you see, which is why I noticed it after sensing the Trooper’s duress through the Force. Troopers are trained to care only about fulfilling the orders given to them over everything else. While they act and train as a cohesive unit, they do not think and connect like one. Unlike clones, they were not trained to assist a fallen comrade, must less care about one. Even the loosest definition of a ‘friendship’ between Troopers constituted treason, and is wholly against their programming. Yet these two Troopers seemed to have formed a deep, powerful connection; one that allowed the surviving Trooper’s natural instincts and emotional processes to completely override his First Order programming, freeing him.”

Kylo pauses, looking at Rey carefully. She’s perched on the edge of her seat, attention rapt. She hadn’t missed his reference that this all happened on Jakku, and thinks its funny how such a backwards, forgotten planet became the backdrop for more than one event of galactic significance.

“Naturally, I was curious to see how this progressed, so I didn’t report the rebelling Trooper to Captain Phasma immediately. I wanted to see how he reacted upon returning to our ship - if the shock of the loss carried on past the initial incident, or if it truly corrupted his conditioning. What I did not anticipate was that once back on board, the Trooper would free an imprisoned Poe Dameron and flee with him on a stolen TIE Fighter.” Kylo’s amber eyes lock to Rey’s as she grasps the meaning behind the story. 

“Finn,” she breathes, shock rippling through her core. Her former friend never told her about his original mission to Jakku, or about Kylo’s involvement in his defection. He’d certainly failed to mention that Kylo Ren knew the moment he broke through his programming. Then again, she thinks bitterly, it really shouldn’t surprise Rey, given her former friend’s propensity for keeping secrets from her. 

Rey pushes the twisting ache in her heart down, returning her focus to the soothing velvet of Kylo’s voice instead.

“Yes, FN-2187 was the Trooper who broke the conditioning.” Kylo has the good sense to not look _too_ annoyed with Rey’s use of his chosen name. “I immediately copied all of his records before Hux or Phasma could engage in any kind of cover up, although I found myself pre-occupied for the next few days chasing you all over the galaxy.” Kylo gave Rey an affectionate smile, one that makes her insides melt and forget all about what’s-his-name’s betrayal. Under the table, Kylo’s hand drifts to cover her bony knee, squeezing it as if trying to permanently leech away all of her darker thoughts. 

“Those records were instrumental in revealing the source of FN-2187’s programming corruption. A fatal flaw in the system. The other Trooper that died on Jakku was apparently FN-2187’s lover.” Kittara jumps in, growing impatient with Kylo’s storytelling. 

If the revelation about Kylo Ren’s role in Finn’s defection shook Rey, this one rattles her to the core. 

“What?” she gasps, jaw falling open like a strangled Hutt. ‘Finn? Lover?’ She tried to reconcile the clueless-seeming, socially awkward boy who tended to imprint on anyone nearby when she first found him wandering through Niima Outpost. She’d interpreted this as childlike innocence from being raised in the cold ranks of the First Order. But now, looking back through the knowing lens of hindsight and experience, she recognizes it as a coping mechanism for a man in mourning, desperate for a new anchor. Clearly, it’d been a loss so deep he’d hidden it from everyone, including his so-called “best and first friend.”

With a twinge of sadness, Rey wonders if she ever really knew Finn at all. 

“Rey?” Ben’s eyes are heavy with concern, his mind gently pressing into her thoughts through the Bond. It’s warm and comforting and Rey wants to pull it over her and curl up under it like a child with a blanket. “He never told you?”

“No. I had no idea Finn ever had anyone before Rose, to be honest.” Rey half-whispers. There’s something wet stinging at the corner of her eye and she reaches up, confused when she feels what could only be tears there. She curses her weakness, her continued ability to be hurt by Finn’s duplicity over and over again. She reminds herself to dwell on these things later, again pushing her hurt feelings and confusion away. She’s good at repressing, and she needs to focus on the task at hand. 

Kylo frowns, clearly reading her thoughts. However, he’s a quick learner and wisely chooses to let it go for the time being, turning back to his explanation.

“From there, we worked back to the other cases where we saw corruption began to take hold. We found all of them involved some level of attachment forming between a Trooper and someone else - an officer, a droid, et cetera - which attacks and breaches their conditioning. The amount of corruption depended on the level of attachment, or so we think, as well as any emotional trauma dealt to the attached person.”

“This was fortified when we learned that FN-2187 and his lover had been together for months, escaping undetected through their jobs in sanitation. It was the perfect atmosphere for such a breakdown in monitoring to occur.” Kittara added.

“But rather than go and encourage our Troopers to all fall in love or lust or whatever and then kill half of them, we’ve hypothesized that, if relationships are allowed to grow and continue over time, the corruption takes a deeper hold, truly compromising the Trooper’s entire loyalty programming and allowing them to gain freedom of their own thoughts.” Always the scientist, her Ben, Rey thinks with a smile.

“So, to test our theory,” Kylo continues, “We discreetly allowed and encouraged attachments and relationships to develop in certain test populations. One are a group of Troopers stationed on a base under construction, and the other are my personal guard.”

“This is also a big reason for Kylo’s pushing through a number of reforms in the treatment of the Stormtrooper rank and file. Our hope is this will win their appreciation and loyalty, once they’re corrupted enough to choose a side.” Kittara explains. 

“And what have your tests shown?” Rey asks softly, letting hope glimmer inside her that they’ve discovered their salvation.

“It appears to be working. Our daily scans show that their mental conditioning is indeed corrupted. Kylo’s three personal guards have an extraordinarily high level of corruption, leading me to believe that even their embedded mandatory loyalty programming has been breached and is no longer intact.”

“But you haven’t been able to test that, have you?”

“Not really, no.” Kittara admits, shooting Kylo a look. Rey mulls over all the new information in her head. On the one hand, she’s not sure if she’s ready to assume the mantle of defector to the First Order, even if its just a cover. But, protecting Kylo is her top priority, and that means protecting his role as Supreme Leader. 

Rey can’t believe she’s even thinking such a thing. Three months ago, she ran from his offer to rule together and here she is now, kriffing helping him secure his position. 

It’s not just for Kylo, she tells herself, remembering to focus on the bigger picture. This is also to help the Troopers, innocent children taken and broken to be molded as weapons, allowing them some sort of freedom, of self-determination after years of slavery. 

After all, she knows all too well what that’s like. 

Like that, her mind resolves, decision rendered. One thing Rey’s always been is a woman of action, internal strife and hesitation being a great way to lose a good salvage (or your life) on Jakku. She looks at the two Knights before her, her hazel eyes sparkling with determination.

“Let’s do it.” She says.

“Rey,” Kylo starts, but Rey shoots him a look that says her mind is made up and there’s no amount of pleading that will change her mind. 

_I told you we’re in this together, and we are._

Satisfied, Kittara suggests that breakfast tomorrow is the perfect time for introductions (likely to avoid giving Rey too much time to think it over and back out). With that, the redheaded Counsel bids them good night with a wink and a thinly veiled innuendo before sauntering out of the chambers. 

Rey can’t help but think that Kittara’s manner is far too relaxed given the amount of violence and screaming that had just occurred between them. Then again, Rey gets the sense that many of Kittara and Kylo’s strategy meetings frequently involve such things, and Rey can’t help but roll her eyes.

Darksiders sure are dramatic as fuck.


	16. Good For You (aka, The Smuttening, Pt. 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **May I have your attention please!**
> 
> The following chapter contains explicit adult content between two _very_ consenting adults. If you do not want to read said explicit content, or are not of legal age, please skip to the next chapter. I'm keeping the smut separate from the main plotline, so you won't miss anything if you skip this chapter. Capeesh?
> 
> Thus, if you keep reading this chap and get upset to find smutty mcsmut smut, you've been warned and assumed the risk. 
> 
> Ok, we good? Then let's get into it!

Once the chamber door hisses shut Rey pushes all thoughts of Kittara aside, turning her attention to the dark haired man before her. She and Kylo are finally alone, and Rey gleefully notes that they’re going to be undisturbed until morning. The thought spurs her into action, not wanting to waste a second of this opportunity. 

First things first, she’s going to need to draw said tall, dark and handsome man out of his consuming thoughts. Inspiration strikes, and Rey pounces. 

“Kylo,” Rey says as she tugs his wine glass from his hand, setting it down on the table in front of them with a clink. Obstacle removed, she pulls herself onto his chair and settling herself on his lap. She’s sitting so she’s facing him, legs bended and parting so she’s straddling his thick thighs, and Rey begins placing sweet little kisses along his scar. _Her_ scar. 

Fortunately, there’s one thing even a brooding Kylo Ren cannot resist, and that happens to be Rey of Jakku. He seems especially susceptible to Rey of Jakku being sweet, and is definitely vulnerable to having Rey of Jakku on his lap. He snaps out of his thoughts like he’s been struck by lightning, his attention fully on her as she showers him with her lips. It doesn’t take long for his shoulders to slump down and she can feel his stress draining out of him like a plug pulled from a sink. Rey runs her fingers through his thick black hair, trying not to concentrate on the little sparks she feels when her fingertips scrape against his scalp. 

_I know you’re not using me. I trust you. I’m not leaving you. I don’t regret coming to you. We’re in this together._ She keeps telling him through their Bond, pouring her intent into it so he can see the truth of her words. _You’re stuck with me,_ she adds teasingly at the end. 

Her words do something to Kylo as suddenly, he’s anything but calm, turning his face to the side so he can catch her lips with her own. She can taste the wine on him, heavy and dark, as he sucks her lower lip in between his teeth, laving his tongue over it.

Score one for the Scavenger, she thinks.

Kylo’s large hands grasp the back of her head, threading through her hair. His fingertips on her scalp are just as electric, and Rey instinctively responds by grinding her hips against him. She feels his hardness rub against her as she pushes down with her core, and they both moan at the sensation. The burning coil begins to wind in Rey’s belly, a pleasant ache making her skin flushed and hot with desire.

She swivels her hips down again, and Kylo suddenly breaks away from his assault on her mouth, hissing at the motion. 

“Sweetheart, you’re going to kill me if you keep doing that,” he breathes, his voice low and husky. It makes Rey shiver, the way his voice sounds, thick with lust and vibrating through his chest. She can’t help but give him an impish smile before rocking her hips forward again, and Kylo bites his lips to stifle a groan.

“What, you mean this?” she says innocently, batting her eyelashes as she moves her hips against him again. His eyes darken, making her grin only grow wider.

With a growl, Kylo heaves forward, lifting them both up as he stands out of the chair. It tips backwards before falling back to the floor with a loud clatter, but neither Rey or Kylo pay it any mind. His arms wrap around her tightly, muscles tense like steel, and his hands grab her ass to keep her seated against his pelvis. Rey meeps in surprise, legs flying to wrap around his waist, clutching herself to him as he carried her across the room and into his bedchambers. 

_Their_ bedchambers, at least for the time being.

“Ah, my naughty girl, don’t you know that you drive me crazy enough already?” Kylo’s the one smirking now, enjoying her reaction to being suddenly lifted up and carried to his bed. Nevermind what him calling her “his naughty girl” did to her insides, making the bottom of her stomach drop out. “You should know that when you tease like that I can’t resist you.”

He kisses her again, long and slow, tongue tracing over her lips before stroking hers. The tables have turned and now she’s the one being teased, her dress suddenly too tight, too hot as she claws at his shoulders for leverage. She wraps her legs around his hips again, pulling herself up to him, closer. The touch of Kylo intoxicates her, making her insatiable, wild. The gray fabric of her dress has ridden up, pooling around her thighs as she moves, trying to pull him down so she can grind their hips together again. It felt so good before, scratching an itch she didn’t even know she had.

Kylo’s not giving her an inch, though, instead pressing her back down into the bed before pulling away from her lips again. Rey huffs in frustration, preparing an indignant protest till she sees Kylo unbuttoning his jacket, slowly removing it and his arm guards until he’s only clad in a skintight black tight top. It reveals his incredibly sculpted muscles and miles of his pale skin, marred by scars that Rey shouldn’t find sexy (but absolutely does). Rey can’t help but notice how broad Kylo is, the man absolutely dwarfs her. It’s another one of those things that should scare Rey but does quite the opposite.

Kylo turns away to casually hang his jacket and armguards off of a half-opened wardrobe door, giving Rey the perfect opening to remove the grey leggings under her dress while he’s not looking. His reaction upon turning back around is totally worth it. His pupils blow wide, taking up almost all of his irises as he takes in the tanned expanse of her bare legs. He puts one large hand on each ankle, easily wrapping his fingers around her small bones. With a tortured groan, he begins slowly sliding each hand up her legs, burning a path of wildfire in his wake. When he reaches the middle of her thighs he pauses, his eyes black with lust as he watches her face. Rey tries to urge him to keep moving by bucking her hips towards him, wordlessly entreating him to _keep going_.

Then his mouth is back on hers, hot and musky as their tongues duel. Her lips are already tender, bruised from their earlier battles but the pain is delicious, erotic, and she can feel his kiss in her bones. He’s half lying down on top of her now, his wide legs nestled between hers, arms propping him off to keep his weight off her. She can feel them trembling as she runs her fingers down them, thick ropes of muscles twitching beneath his skin. 

Kylo moves his lips to her neck, remembering how much she enjoyed him nipping at her pulse before. He returns to the spot, at first teasingly grazing his lips over her too-sensitive flesh. Then his teeth pull with his lips at the juncture of her neck and skull, right behind her right ear and she mewls for him again, eyes rolling back into her head. His tongue laves the spot, soothing it, pleasure-pain burning her blood and setting it on fire. 

When he finally releases her neck to inspect his handiwork (with an all too cocky grin, she thinks, and she’d smack him if it wasn’t so gods damned _hot_ ), she reaches for his undershirt, pulling the black expanse of fabric up his torso and over his head. It looked good on him but oh, better off, she thinks as she trails her fingers down the expanse of his now naked chest. Goosebumps rise where she touches and Kylo’s breath grows heavier. 

“Gods, Rey, you have no idea what you do to me,” he growls, and she wraps her legs around his hips again. The movement only exposes more of her thighs, her skin slightly paler here as she’d worked to hide this area of her body from Jakku’s relentless sun. With their Bond fully open, she hears him wondering over this virgin expanse of her skin, untouched and unexplored until him. With a possessive moan, Kylo dives back to her neck, kissing and biting his way down to the neckline of her dress, impatiently trying to tug it further down.

Not wanting him to rip what consists as her only piece of clothing (for the moment), Rey decides to distract him by pulling his hips closer to the apex of her thighs, yanking him down by grabbing his ass. He grunts, startled, and she gives herself another point in her twisted game. But he doesn’t stop her, and Rey grinds her aching cunt against Kylo’s clothed erection, hoping the layers of fabric between them prevent him from feeling how embarrassingly wet she is. She knows she should stop, but Gods, it feels good, grinding right up against that magic spot that makes her insides clench and cry for more. 

“Fuck, sweetheart, you- you feel too good, even like this,” Kylo groans, running his hand down from the nape of her neck to the top buttons of her dress. He makes quick work of them, but waits a gentlemanly amount of time before pressing a large palm to the small of her back, lifting her up so he can yank it off her. 

The wild look in his eyes tells her he didn’t realize the dress’s built-in bodice also counted as her bra, meaning the Jedi Killer has the Last Jedi lying on his bed before him, clad only in a pair of blue panties. His lips, rosy pink and swollen from his ministrations, part as a half-strangled noise escapes from between them.

Rey feels a burn of self-consciousness. She cannot help but think that her breasts look even smaller like this, spread out with her back pressed flat against his mattress. Part of her wants to act brave, untouched, unbothered but the sick, masochist part of her needs to know why he’s staring at her like that. Her cheeks burn as she pushes into his mind, bracing herself to find disappointment at her small curves, her hard muscles, and imperfect skin.

_**No. No, you’re perfect; a Goddess, my desert Goddess. Never think you’re anything but, Rey. My Rey.**_ Even in his mind, his voice leaks with lust, rough as sandpaper and making Rey squirm ever so slightly, rubbing her thighs together. It doesn’t escape his notice, and he delves back down to capture her mouth, kissing her into the soft bed. His hips lower again, and Rey grinds against him, needing more, more friction, embarrassment chased away by desire and Kylo’s words. 

“Hm,” Kylo turns away from her lips to breathe into her ear. His breath is hot, sweet, tickling the sensitive shell and her nipples pearl into little rocks as she arches into him, whimpering at the feeling. “Is it my words or my voice that turns you on so, my desert queen?” 

“Kylo, please,” is all she can gasp in return, feeling his fingers move down to her exposed breasts. He cups them gently, looking down in what can only be described as awe for a moment, as if forgetting himself. But then his thumbs and forefingers trail up, grazing her sensitive nipples and oh, Gods, the pressure alone makes her moan.

“Fuck, Rey, do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted to do this to you?” He groans again, pinching her nipple to make her mewl, hips rising up off the bed in a desperate chase. She sees herself across their Bond, in Kylo’s mind, caked with dirt and sweat, strapped to that interrogation table back on Starkiller Base. She feels Kylo’s desire in that moment, barely a blip compared to what it is now, and can’t help but grin.

Rey leans up, pressing her lips against his ear, his dark hair tickling her face. “Don’t be afraid, I feel it too,” she whispers teasingly and Kylo moans, skin flushing hot, so hot. She’s not the only one with a thing for voices, she thinks to herself before she moves her hips against him again, no longer caring how little there was between them to hide her wetness. She can feel her lips sliding along the thickness of his cock, and its big, so big and Rey wants to feel it beneath her fingers. She slips her hands down between them, fumbling with the clasp of his pants. 

He’s all too eager to help her, lifting his hips off her as he returns his mouth to slant over hers, needing to dominate it again. His hand switches to her other breast, leaving her abandoned nipple raw and aching. Rey pushes him away to see him, her dark prince before her, naked. He is truly beautiful, she thinks, from the hard, strong angle of his jaw to his broad chest and chiseled abs and - oh. 

Right below where his lower abdominal muscles end in a V (who would’ve guessed that was such a turn on) there’s a thatch of dark hair and - oh. 

Rey’s eyes focus on Kylo’s cock, large and red, angry looking, desperate, straining. She’s never seen one like this before, never seen another man’s wanting in this context, and it is just as beautiful as the rest of him. She can feel herself getting wet at the sight of it, demanding it be inside of her. Although, she’s not sure how it’ll ever fit in her, she thinks with the slightest pang of anxiety, then pushes it away, noting the nervous look on her lover’s face. It’s the same look she had when he gazed down at her, and while Rey knows she’s nowhere as good with words, she tries.

_You’re perfect. Better than my dreams, better than I could’ve imagined._ She looks into his eyes, trying to communicate her appreciation with a look, before she rises up to kiss him like he’d kissed her, pouring all her feelings into his lips. She thinks he’s a scavenge so good she’d never give it up, claiming him as hers and hers alone, ready to defend her find with her life, and he reads this through their Bond, understanding her sentiment as he clutches her tighter.

_**Yours**_ , Ben promises, before hooking his long fingers into the waist of her panties, pulling them down with a sureness that belies his trembling hands. Rey instinctively clamps her thighs together, suddenly shy as cold air hits the warmth of her too hot cunt. Kylo’s not having it, and he gently pries them apart with his knee, digging his thigh back between them as he kisses her, slowly, almost delicately. 

Rey looks up at him through her lashes, a string of anxiety - hers or his? - running through them. It slips through the Bond that he’s just as inexperienced as she is, despite his cockiness, and a wave of relief washes over Rey, followed by another curl of possessiveness. She trails her fingers down, over the hardened planes of his stomach, till she hits the hard head of his cock. The skin there is almost velvet soft, and she trails her fingers over it. 

Kylo groans again, arms trembling with the strain of holding back and not fucking her right then and there. He wants nothing more than to claim, possess, take her, make her his but oh, his queen, he needs to worship her and he’d vowed to himself to take it slow for her.

With a determined breath, he opens his eyes and rolls onto his side, pressing up against the heat of her thigh. For a second, she looks alarmed, unsure why he rolled away from her, wanting his chivalrous ideas to go to Hell and not come back. 

“Shh, sweetheart. Let me take care of you,” Kylo murmured, trailing his fingertips up her thighs again. Desire overtakes any fears as her hips arch towards him, as if directing him where to go. 

He takes a moment to rub circles in the uppermost crease of her thigh, almost moaning himself when he feels the wetness covering her skin there. He can’t resist now, and before he loses all control, he catches Rey’s eyes, looking for any sign of hesitation, begging for permission to touch. 

“Please,” she whispers in her accented voice, breathier than she’s ever heard it. It’s all he needs and he runs a single finger up, between her trembling thighs and along her weeping slit. 

Rey gasps at the feeling, the clenching need deep inside of her tightening with his touch. He does it again, running his finger deeper into her folds. Its wet, so wet that his digit slides easily over her, practically drenching him and his finger drags away glistening. Kylo’s dark eyes flutter shut at the sensation before fluttering back open, not wanting to risk missing a moment of his girl splayed out before him.

“Rey, Gods, you’re so wet, my little queen,” he marvels, sliding his finger again, listening through the Bond to figure out where she needs him most. It’s a handy little cheat sheet, he thinks, one that gives him access to know just what she wants, likes. 

Probably not the Bond’s intended use, but hey, it was the one that decided to give them access to each other’s fantasies so it practically asked for this to happen. 

His finger swipes across the hardened pearl hidden at the top of her clit and Rey moans again at this, head thrashing to the side at the contact. Kylo repeats the motion, feeling the spike in desire running through her as he does so. Each press of his digit against her button makes her positively throb, the coil in her core growing so tight, so hot. He moves his hand to just outside and above her clitoris, pressing gently against it and she arches her back. 

_More_ , she begs, pleading in his mind as her fingers trail back over to him. They dip down, reaching over to his cock and he can feel her searching through him for what he likes, how to touch him. Just the thought of her wanting to please him makes him throb harder, aching, just as she finds his cock and encircles her fingers around it. His hips jump as she experimentally strokes, tightening the circle of her fingers so she grips onto his length. Its good, so good, her hand, fingers, and Kylo bites into his lip to stifle his own growl.

“Don’t,” she says, looking up at him with blown out eyes. Then, with a blush that spreads down her chest, she adds, _I like hearing you_. Too shy to speak it out loud, but the Bond allows her another, braver avenue.

Upon confirmation of his queen’s blossoming voice kink, Kylo releases his tortured lip and lets out a long, ragged moan, throwing his head back so his black hair falls away from his face. She’s moving as slowly as he is, running her hand up and down, stroking him with the occasional gentle twist and oh, he thinks its torture of the best kind. 

The wetness on Kylo’s finger is rapidly drying, which he knows will only decrease her pleasure and so he dips his finger down low, teasing at the edge of her cunt to replenish it with her slick. She’s absolutely dripping, his girl, begging and sopping and needy.

_All for you_ , she whispers and Gods, Ben Solo could happily die right now with that knowledge burned into his head. But he’s not dying and won’t without making her scream his name first. He needs to hear her fall apart for him, come for him hard with his name on her lips, he thinks. His darker desires chomp at the bit, demanding to break through his strained control to give his girl, his Rey, softness at first. They’ll have plenty of time for that, later, but the first times he touches, tastes, takes his queen he intends to do it right. Kylo returns to circling her clit, making sure to rub with just the right amount of pressure. Every swipe, every push on her nub makes Rey’s body grow hotter, her insides grabbing desperately, needing something, something as her hips rise off the bed with a plea. 

“Please, please, Kylo,” she pants, not even sure what she’s begging for. That wicked grin is back on his lips, sin itself as he purrs into her ear, 

“What do you need, Rey? Say it, and I’ll give it to you.” He presses just a little harder and she moans, louder, each breath short and ragged. He can see the conflict on her face as she struggles with her shyness (funny for such a brash little thing). He wants nothing more than to make her beg, make her say it, break his self-made promises of sweetness in their first times, for her, all for her. He’s about to give in and dip into her mind to see what she needs when she stops him. She tightens her fingers around his cock, moving a little faster as she confesses,

_Inside. I want your fingers inside of me_ , she almost demands and Gods, Kylo’s all too happy to comply. He removes his finger from her throbbing clit, drawing a frustrated whimper from his girl.

“Shh, Rey, I’ll take care of you, I promise. Trust me,” he’s the one with a pleading tone now, but his desert queen nods, gazing into his eyes to show just how she trusts him with her, her pleasure, her body and stars, Ben’s never going to break that. He teases around her entrance again, circling it and watching her squirm, chasing it, before pushing his index finger inside and Force, Maker, whatever deities exist, she’s so wet and tight and its velvet hot grabbing him, sucking him in. She feels so good on just his finger and it’s all he can do to not come at the thought of one day having his cock inside her.

“Kylo!” Rey cries out at his breach, finally, finally giving her walls something to clench onto. But then he starts moving his finger, at first gently in and out and then Rey starts thrusting against it, “More, Kylo, please, please baby, I need more, I need-“ and then he’s moving harder, in and out and hooking his finger up so it presses against something deep and Rey’s toes are on fire now. The pressure makes her whole body twitch, and that coil inside her is tight, so tight, it’s going to break soon, she thinks.

Then Kylo uses his thumb to return to rubbing circles around her clitoris and it rubs so good, she thinks. She jerks her hand around his cock faster, faster as her skin gets hot, so hot and she grips tighter onto his sheet with her free hand. He adds another finger, the stretch so wickedly good and giving her cunt more to grab, pull in. He curls both fingers into the spongier flesh at the front of her, making her cry out in pleasure. Her toes are curling as her breaths get shorter and with each stroke and press she feels something building, closer and closer,

“Rey, cum for me. Cum for me, I need - Gods, Rey,” and its his voice, of course, its his voice, rumbling deep into her ear that sends her over the edge. 

She shatters into a million pieces as her body goes rigid, hot, her voice singing “Kylo, Kylo, Gods, yes, Kylo!” as he milks her orgasm from her. Her hand around him slows for a moment but never completely stills, his pleasure still on her mind even as she comes, wanting to drag him over the ledge with her. Her walls flutter around his finger and Kylo almost comes just from watching her, feeling her-

But then she’s coming back down and her hand’s moving faster, lips hot against his ear as she tells him “Gods, you’re so good, Kylo, that felt so good, let me make you cum now, I want to watch you. Let me see.” It’s too much, his perfect Rey begging for his pleasure, lilting accent telling him how hard he made her cum, and Kylo groans a warning.

“Rey, Rey, I’m going to c-“ and with that, Kylo loses the last pieces of his control as his balls tense up and his hips thrust forward, into her hand as hot white ropes burst out of the tip of his cock. He swears he levitates with the force of his orgasm for a second, mind going blank except with the singular thought of _**Rey**_ before he’s back in his own body, panting. 

Her tanned, toned stomach is covered in his spend and its the hottest thing Kylo’s seen. Or, at least it is until his desert goddess swipes her index finger through the hot liquid, gathering a bit on the tip before bringing it to her lips. Kylo stays frozen, attention rapt as, with an almost innocent giggle, Rey’s pink little tongue darts out to taste it, taste _him_ and for the love of the Maker, if Kylo hadn’t just come he’d be hard again.

“Salty,” Rey grins, and her lover flops back onto the bed, chest glistening with sweat as he wondered how in fuck he ever got so lucky. 

Rey purrs, curling up against him as much as she can without spilling any of the white liquid onto their sheets. It’s already starting to cool and dry, sticky against her skin, and Rey looks around for something in reach that she can use to wipe her skin clean.

Without a word, Kylo moves, getting up and walking to the ‘fresher. Through the Bond, she knows he wants her to stay where she is, and she does, appreciating the view as he strides past her. 

Gods, his back is just as good as his front, Rey thinks, finally getting to admire his muscular back and very nice, taut butt. Rey dazedly recalls an old saying she’d heard. What was it, “I hate to see him go but I sure love watching him leave?” She’d never understood the sentiment until now. 

Kylo comes back with a wet cloth and crawls back beside her, eyes softer than she’s ever seen. She reaches for the rag with an appreciative grin but he gently catches her wrist with his free hand, kissing the inside of it. There’s a feeling of warm wet on her stomach, the stroking of coarse terrycloth against her skin and Rey looks down to see Kylo cleaning her up. He’s careful with the washcloth, not wanting to rub her skin too hard and it’s so sweet that tears prick at the corners of her eyes. 

“I promised to take care of you,” he murmurs, swiping up the last few pools before tossing the used fabric into a corner somewhere. He pulls the sheets of his bed down, guiding her exhausted body underneath them before curling him around her naked form. It’s intimate, far more intimate than Rey should ever allow and yet, yet, she can’t care right now. She’s warm, so blessedly content and sated from her orgasm and Ben smells like home. Feels like home. She knows, despite being deep in enemy territory, she’s safe here, protected, (loved, even?) and so she snuggles into her dark prince. 

For once, the two easily drift into sleep, their Bond wrapping around them like a shield, humming a sweet lullaby. One that hasn’t been heard since millennia, one that sounds a bit like balance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reminder that I'm posting Chapter 17 tonight too. This one needs some more editing so it might be a little bit, but you'll have it on your hot little screens tonight. 
> 
> (Please don't judge too hard, I'm still getting the hang of writing smut.)


	17. Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep

Dreams are odd, twisted places. Physics and its laws have no place in dreams, nor do any of the other known laws in the universe. 

Especially when you’re a Force user.

Force-users don’t own their dreams, their sleeping minds. Dreams can be invaded by masters, family, or Bondmates. They can even be hijacked by the Force itself, as couriers of prophecies or warnings. 

Perhaps that’s why Kylo Ren isn’t terribly alarmed to find his dreaming mind taken over by the familiar, yet unknown man in front of him. They’re both sitting at a simple wooden table, looking out over a desert landscape. That’s not all that strange, either. Ever since bonding with Rey, Kylo’s dreamed of the deserts as she’s dreamt of Chandrila’s rivers. 

Yet, he doesn’t think this desert is Jakku. The sky is too blue, twin suns pounding down, making the sand shimmer like diamonds. 

The man before him is far more puzzling. He’s got tanned skin, like Rey’s, indicating he must belong in the sands outside. He’s tall, almost as tall as Kylo, with dirty blond hair, bleached from the sun. It curls around his almost-familiar face, and Kylo Ren pauses to admit the man has really good hair. 

But its not the hair that intrigues Kylo, although he might need to ask what conditioner he uses. It’s his eyes. Deep blue like the sea, surprisingly calm on the surface (albeit mildly amused). There’s a darkness in them, though, hidden beneath the calm. Its entrenched in the man’s bones, just as much a part of him as Kylo’s own blackness. 

But despite the dark haunting the man, his eyes reveal to Kylo that even at his worst, the man’s light inside of him burned like a supernova, refusing to die. 

There’s another eerie similarity between the two, Kylo thinks, gaze drifting to the faded scar marring his skin right above his right eyebrow. As he looks at it, he thinks the man notices the similarity also. 

“Last time I checked, scars aren’t inherited, but it appears the Force disagrees,” the man grins, his voice young and immediately recognizable. The same voice that told Kylo to take Rey away from Mustafar. A voice Kylo yearned to hear for so long. 

“Grandfather,” he half-whispers, mouth gaping open with shock. 

“In the flesh. Well, to the extent possible,” Anakin Skywalker replied, before reaching for a plain blue teapot that had magically appeared on the table. “Tea?”

Kylo only nods, still working through the torrent of emotions at having his grandfather, his infamous, damned grandfather, here in his dream. Part of him wonders why, why now? Why after all those years of begging for something, any kind of sign, he now appears to him? And not as Darth Vader, but as Anakin Skywalker, a man his Master swore to be dead?

Instead, Kylo (still very much the child of Han Solo and Leia Organa) says, “I’m guessing the good hair is genetic?”

“Mm, yes. You got my hair, my scar, and penchant for incredibly evil acts. Unfortunately, that last one is a bit of a doozy.” Anakin passes a small, plain teacup made of the same sky blue ceramic as the teapot. The tea smells sweeter than he expected, as if more sugar than tea. 

“Nabian tea. Your grandmother’s favorite.” Anakin explains as if he heard Kylo’s thoughts. 

“Where are we? This isn’t Naboo.” Kylo asks, nodding towards the desert landscape. 

“Tattooine, unfortunately. I figured I’d start here, as this is where it all began. Although I’m never going to get all the sand out of my robes.” The man formerly known as Darth Vader frowns, shaking out his black robe as if illustrating his point. 

“I’m guessing you’re not just here for tea, then?” Kylo almost sighs, feeling disappointed at the surety that his grandfather couldn’t just be here for -

“Actually, I am. Here for tea. With you. Grandson. Kylo. Ben. We can finally talk, just like you always wanted.”

“Why now?” Kylo growls, feeling anger instead of relief burning through his veins, the bitterness of disappointment and broken expectations still too real, too fresh when it came to his family. “I asked for you, begged for you for years to speak to me and only now I merit your attention?”

“You can raise that complaint with every other Skywalker, Ben, but not with me. I tried to answer you for years. I tried to, Force, I tried. Snoke blocked me. Blocked me since you were a child, kept me out of your head and helpless to watch. I’m not saying I shouldn’t have done more, tried other options, but I did try to answer you, Ben. I always did.” His grandfather’s voice is low, emotions running raw in both of the Skywalker men. It’s not the answer Kylo expected (although he shouldn’t be surprised at his former Master’s machinations, really), and Kylo’s childish protests die on his lips. He furrows his brow and works his jaw as he considers the implication of what this all means, the extent to which he chased a lie. The shock does not douse his anger, instead stoking the flames in a different direction. He wants to bathe himself in his rage, to scream that Anakin’s a liar, he abandoned him, just like everyone else (but Rey), but…

But the Force whispers in Kylo’s ear here, a sweet, hot desert breeze confirming his grandfather to be speaking the truth. That he is ready to hear the truth, _needs_ to hear the truth. And deep down, Kylo knows that considering all the lies, all the manipulations he suffered at Snoke’s hands - Snoke, who just wanted the heralded Heir of Vader - this perfectly fit into Snoke’s modus operandi. All things considered, Snoke definitely would block his grandfather’s restless soul from reaching his increasingly tempted grandchild. This way, Snoke was the only definitive source on Anakin Skywalker, spinning a web of lies to further lead young, naive Ben Solo away from the Light. 

The betrayal cuts deep. Kylo drops his head, tears stinging at his eyes. 

“You’re definitely my grandson, I can say that.” Ben hears the slightest hint of a smile in Anakin’s voice. “Come now, look at me. I’ve waited so long to see you, and besides, that’s not your failing to bear. If anything, I’m impressed. It took ten years for Sidious to wear me down, you withstood Snoke for what, twenty-four? Hell, if it hadn’t been for that idiot son of mine, I bet you wouldn’t have ever fallen.”

Kylo’s eyes jerk up, searching the blue orbs of his grandfather’s. It’s the second time that he’s heard someone he respects assign more than part of the blame to his sainted, holy, untouchable prick of an Uncle, and given the source, its entirely unexpected. He’d anticipated derision, or maybe some grandfatherly advice that would be too cryptic to actually help (given Anakin’s status as a Force-user), but not Anakin speaking proudly about _Ben_. 

He certainly wasn’t expecting something that sounded like the complete opposite of disappointment. 

“Disappointed? Not in you, Ben. I can’t be disappointed in you. I know how it is to fall, to do unspeakable things that you’ll never forgive yourself for. I know how it is to struggle in the Light and the Dark, because our souls and the Force call for something else. I know what it feels like to lose yourself in rage. And while you’ve done some terrible things, I cannot blame you for your fall. I cannot blame you for the sins of this family. All they’ve ever done is channeled all their hopes and dreams and fears and guilt into you. I know exactly like that’s like.

“So of course, my grandson, I am proud of you. I’m proud of you for resisting for so long. I’m proud of you for refusing - even unconsciously- to snuff out the light inside you.”

For a moment, Kylo’s back in his TIE _Silencer_ , finger on the trigger as he stares at the bridge of the Resistance’s flagship. His mother’s presence glowing through space like a beacon, calling him home as his finger slips away from the button to fire his missiles, despite his targeting mechanism trilling with a lock, promising a direct hit. 

“I’m proud of you for following in my footsteps by killing your Master. I’m proud of you for using your power to actually try to restore good, real law and order to the galaxy, even though we both know it may cost you your head. I’m proud of you for finding your way back, for seeking balance. Shirking off millennia of Sith and Jedi teachings. You’re truly finishing what I started, you know.” There’s a sardonic grin as Anakin sips his tea, but the sparkle in his eyes shows how moved his grandfather is to recount Kylo’s better moments to him. 

“I - thank-“

“Don’t thank me, Ben. I did nothing to help. I failed you, as your mother did, your father did, your uncle did. That was all you. You can’t even claim it was really Rey, although she may have inspired you to seek out the good in you. If I recall correctly, she didn’t even speak to you for a month after you killed Snoke, am I right?”

“Twenty-seven days,” Kylo mumbled, and Anakin laughed, a hearty sounding noise that echoes in the desert around them. 

“Oh, you’re _definitely_ my grandson.”

“Glad to know obsession also runs in the family.”

“Only with pretty, fearsome brunettes, luckily.”

Kylo briefly considers if Anakin just called Han Solo a pretty brunette, but then decides to leave that stone unturned for now. This is weird enough as it is. 

“Does Ahsoka know you’re here?” Kylo asks hesitantly. Skywalkers only approach each other with an ulterior motive, and he’s still sure his grandfather’s got one. His posture’s slightly guarded, arms loosely crossed with a smug grin that Kylo’d believed to be a Solo attribute. That is, until now. 

“Eh, kind of. She’s not exactly supportive of it but she’s coming around to see that I’m right. Snips always hates it when I’m right.”

“Snips?” Kylo asks, intrigued. He’d heard Ahsoka mention “Snips” before once, but now, now he might get the story behind the name. 

“Yeah. Snips. When she was first sent to me, we thought she was Obi-Wan’s padawan, then all of the sudden she shows up saying she was assigned to me as my padawan. Presumptuous from the get go. I was in the middle of commanding the assault on Ryloth to break the Separatist’s blockade - did anyone ever tell you I was a General in the Republic’s Army?”

Kylo nods, not even able to roll his eyes at his grandfather’s bravado. After all, Anakin Skywalker’s exploits as a Hero of the Old Republic had been lore until the truth of his Sith alter ego was revealed to the Galaxy. 

“Ah, good. Anyways, so I was quite pre-occupied with winning a Gods-damned battle and really didn’t have time for a padawan’s arrival. But all the sudden, here’s this snippy little Togruta tagging along, refusing to leave my side while giving me - _me!_ \- pointers on my battle strategy.” The annoyance in Anakin’s voice speaks miles about the type of feedback Ahsoka provided. “And… Snips seemed perfect for her, what with that attitude.”

Kylo actually feels a half-smirk forming on his lips at his grandfather’s story, the swirl of his earlier rage dampened by the presence of his idol and the hum of inherited behaviors, mannerisms. Not only can Kylo absolutely see the sarcastic, strong-willed Ahsoka dressing down his grandfather right after meeting him; the story reminds him heavily of his relationship with Kittara Ren. He takes another sip of sweet tea, musing as to why its so reassuring to learn that he shares that similarity (highly-opinionated bossy female cohorts, to be specific) with his grandfather also. 

It is also incredibly refreshing to know that his grandfather hasn’t gone full Jedi since his return to the Light: no Jedi would ever allow their ego to rule so heavily. 

“Rey and I have a theory that all Force-users are required to be sarcastic.” Kylo surmises, setting his teacup back down on the table. 

“Hmmm.” Anakin leans back, taking another long sip of tea as if mulling it over in his head. “Yeah, I like that theory. I like that Rey, too. Little spitfire, she is. Plus, we both have that shared origin of being enslaved as children on shithole desert planets.”

“You really don’t like sand, do you?” Ben asks, letting the full-blown Solo smirk parade about his face. 

“Oh, you have no idea,” Anakin says, laughing. 

With that, all tension between the former Darksiders eases, driven back into the shadows by the harsh light of truth and warmth of camaraderie. A soft, moistureless breath of wind steels around them, leeching the wariness from their muscles and soothing the edges of Kylo's mind. The men stay like this, talking for awhile, possibly hours, while drinking from the magically-unending teapot. Anakin tells Kylo the truth about his family: yes, he really had no father, although Palpatine claimed he created Anakin through the Force (a theory which Anakin derisively summarizes as “banthashit”). How Qui-Gon Jinn and Obi-Wan Kenobi rescued him, freeing him as a slave but forcing him to leave his beloved mother behind on Tatooine. Meeting Padmé for the first time (“I thought she was an angel! And I said it out loud. Gods, I had no game.”). Struggling with the Jedi Council, who clearly never wanted Anakin to join their ranks and did all they could to bar him from their inner circles. The first brushes with the Dark: when his mother was brutally murdered by a tribe of Tusken Raiders, and how he slaughtered them all in return. Winning Padmé over and falling in love. Their secret marriage (“best stupid thing I ever did, and I’d do it again, too.”) His fall and rise as Darth Vader. 

“I did all the terrible things you’ve heard. Murdered younglings - and not in self-defense. Killed Jedi after Jedi. I even tried to kill Ahsoka. Fuck, Ben. I _tortured your mother_.” and this is where remorse truly takes hold of Anakin’s sand-baked features. “I tortured her for days. It was brutal. Terrible. You know what’s really fucked? She reminded me of Padmé. I think, deep down, I must have recognized it and instead of trying to help her, I went harder on her. I was worse. To my own _daughter_.” Now it’s Anakin who hangs his head low, shame and guilt swirling around him. 

Kylo doesn’t offer him any empty platitudes, doesn’t tell him he was lost in the dark, no. Kylo’s committed his own sins (“Get out of my head,” the Scavenger girl snarls from where she’s strapped to an interrogation table) and knows empty words and reassurances won’t ever take the guilt away. 

“So, you see, Ben. Kylo Ren, if you will. No one’s ever truly gone. If I can come back from that, you can too.” Anakin’s eyes are searing into his grandson’s now, imploring him to understand. To see that his redemption is possible, graspable, forgiveness. 

“I’m sure Luke doesn’t agree,” Kylo snaps back, bitterness seeping back into his tone. The acrid taste of the question (“you saved Darth Vader but were willing to murder Ben Solo”) that’s burned in his mind for more than half a decade falls unspoken between them.

“Ah, and that’s why I’m here. You’re right, to be angry at him, furious. Trust me, I am too - and let’s not even begin with your mother. Even while comatose, that woman is downright frightening when she’s pissed. _Definitely_ my daughter. Regardless,” Anakin pours another round of tea for them both, “that brings me to the ulterior motives of this meeting, and my explaining my background to you. Not that you didn’t deserve it either way.”

Kylo sucks in a breath, steeling himself for whatever favor or mission his grandfather’s about to give him. ‘Here we go,’ he thinks, loathing stealing back over him like a black curtain. ‘How could I be so stupid?’

“Ah, come on, you really think that’s the reason why I’m here? Gods, your parents really did a number, huh? Ben, I’m not here to ask you a favor or assign you some half-cocked mission. I’m here to help you, or at least, that’s what my intentions are. You see, Ben, you’re _too much like me_. When Padmé and I fell in love, I wrapped myself in her so tightly so I could ignore all those bleeding wounds that were slowly draining me dry. I thought with her love, I’d be fine. Who cares about the past, let it die, right? I allowed myself to drug myself with her to avoid the reality at hand. And in the end, it bit me on the ass.

“That’s exactly what you’re doing with Rey. I know you are. And I can’t blame you, especially when it’s new love and there’s so many better things to do than brood over your feelings. But for you to truly trust yourself, for you to truly achieve balance - meaning for both of you to achieve balance, you’re going to have to find a way to not only forgive yourself, but your parents, too.”

Kylo lets out a long, slow breath that he’s been holding, mind swirling. He knows his grandfather is right, since apparently all his mother’s fears were true and Ben Solo is the reincarnation of Anakin Skywalker, but he really doesn’t want to even fathom having to face his past. His parents. 

His father. 

“You’re going to have to, Ben. And Luke, too, although he’s not a parent, he served as one. Look, it’s not going to be easy, but if I told you you have to do it or risk losing Rey like I lost your grandmother, would you take that risk?”

The incredibly ornery, disagreeable and stubborn Solo in him wants to bark “yes” at him. 

The equally stubborn, but more obsessively love-struck and self-hating Skywalker side of Kylo wins out, and so he instead sighs a “no.”

“Exactly. Don’t worry. Everything will be through your dreams. Its easier for talking with the dead, and you can’t be harmed here, remember that. Nor will I let anyone harm you, I promised your mother that. Never again.” Anakin’s eyes glimmer with conviction, and Kylo doesn’t doubt him for a second. It’s an odd feeling, that of being protected, loved by someone other than Rey. 

“If we need, I’ll bring Rey in, although Ahsoka and I agree that you should do as much of this on your own. Although, Luke needs to apologize to her too for being such a jerk. But, it’s hard enough to get him to apologize to one person.” His grandfather puts a warm, almost soothing hand on Kylo’s shoulder, as if reaffirming that he’s safe in these dreams, with him. It eases a bit of the churning in his stomach at the thought of facing Luke again. 

He’d had nightmares for two weeks after battling with his kriffing Force projection on Crait, for fuck’s sake. 

“Ben, I won’t fail you again,” Anakin Skywalker promises, before he and the table fade away, the desert landscape becoming darker and darker as he drifts into undisturbed sleep, feeling safer than he has in decades.

Unseen, Anakin pulls the Force over his grandson’s sleeping form like a blanket, tucking him in. He knows Ben needs all the sleep he can get, his future path shimmering in the Force. He’ll give the boy one quiet night, he vows, fist curling as Anakin sees not a man, but a scared little boy with shiny black curls resting before him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stars, I'm more than a little impressed with myself for getting this all out in one day. One day! 
> 
> Sorry that we got a little Skywalker Family Drama all up in your Reylo fic, but, in my defense I really see Kylo's family issues (and unwillingness to confront them) as a major hangup in the quest for balance/peace/happily ever after, and I wanna give my boy all those things. Plus, y'all, I so want Force Ghost Anakin in Ep. IX. I love Hayden so much, and I'd love to see him get some real material to work with as Anakin. 
> 
> Thank you all for your wonderful, awesome and way too kind support. This week was way better, and you guys are just... you're all fabulous with your comments and kudos. I'm so lucky to have such incredibly kind and generous readers. Hopefully, these chapters didn't suck and y'all like the newest twist in the story. ^-^


	18. Paranoia, Paranoia, Everybody's Coming to Get Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And now, a brief trip into the very confused psyche of one Kylo Ren. 
> 
> Plus, Rey meets Kylo's Stormtrooper guard!

Kylo Ren awakens from an all too peaceful sleep. He blinks slowly, keeping the simulated morning light of the _Finalizer_ from searing his eyeballs as he adjusts to the waking world. Next to him, Rey lets out a sleepy, content sigh, and Kylo’s gaze drifts over her naked back appreciatively. His Scavenger’s lying on her stomach, hair splayed out everywhere and mouth slightly open as she slumbers, a thin spot of drool soaking into the pillow. She looks young, innocent, soft, a sight so sweet that it melts Kylo’s black heart. 

Kylo’s happy to lay there forever, admiring the sleeping beauty beside him and relishing in the feeling of her presence. But its not long before the events of his dream (if you could call it that) come back to him, filling Kylo Ren with a curious mixture of something that he can only describe as anxious jubilation. 

Anxiety is nothing new to the young Leader. Its always followed him like a shadow during every waking moment of his tragic life. It makes his veins pulse and his heart beat faster, stronger than any caf he’s ever had and he almost welcomes it, like it’s an old friend.

Jubilation, however, is an entirely different story. An emotion so foreign, one that he’d only ever begun to experience over the last few days with Rey, that it makes his stomach burn and the darkness inside him hiss. It’s a misplaced reaction to a long-lost feeling, Kylo thinks, noting this to be fitting given how it was brought on by his long-lost grandfather. 

His idol. His hero. 

Anakin Skywalker.

Now he’s finally reaching out to Kylo, talking to him, another ghost all too happy to expose everything that Kylo’s ever known as a lie.

For years, he’d had begged his Sith Lord ancestor, the mighty and powerful Darth Vader, to speak to him. He’d pleaded, over and over again, for something, anything, some sort of contact from his grandfather, the only person who Kylo was convinced could understand him. His darkness, his anger, his pain. Kylo spent hours bended on one knee before Vader’s partially melted helmet, hoping to spur some sort of a connection, a sign, to let him know that the very least, he’d won his grandfather’s pride. 

It’s ironic, then, that Anakin Skywalker’s nighttime visit to his once-errant fanboy of a grandson created a spiral of anxiety and even shame in the newly minted Supreme Leader. After all, Kylo had been so, so wrong about everything when it came to the man formerly known as Darth Vader. Especially about his redemption. 

Bile rises in his throat as Kylo considers how Snoke played him so well with his lies and machinations. Cutting everyone out so his version of events went unchallenged, allowing him to drive Kylo further and further into darkness. His former master sold him on the idea that his grandfather was never truly redeemed, walking and speaking as Darth Vader in death, longing for the completion of his lifelong mission to eradicate the Jedi and bring order to the galaxy.

‘I’m such a fool,’ Kylo berates himself, blinking away the tears stinging at his eyes. 

As if reacting to his self-hatred, something inside him swells up, something warm and bright. It reminds him that his conversation with Anakin also sparked something else within Kylo, something he dares call hope. Not only was his grandfather very much his flesh and blood, from their scars to their mannerisms, but Kylo was right about one thing: Anakin Skywalker was the first person in Kylo’s whole wretched family that understood him. Heard him. Saw the realities of the situation he was born into, the role and the cross laid on Kylo’s shoulders to bear since he left his mother’s womb. 

Ben Solo. 

A name he’d long ago forsaken by choice, eager to leave it behind, as well as all his family’s dreams that he’d be the one to cleanse the galaxy of their forefather’s sins. They named him after the alias of his grandfather’s long-dead best friend and master, someone whom none of the living Skywalkers actually knew very well. They only knew the myth and a glimpse of the man behind it: a revered general and war hero who’d seemingly laid down his life as a sacrifice to the evil Darth Vader, giving Luke Skywalker and Leia Organa a chance to escape from the first Death Star. 

Even as a child, Kylo Ren always couldn’t help but think that Obi-Wan Kenobi turned out to be a bit of a disappointment in reality, and his mother and uncle were just too naive to see past it. He wasn’t alone in this thinking: Han once told him, when he was eleven and struggling with his namesake, that Obi-Wan wasn’t that great in the old smuggler’s opinion. 

“Bit too self-righteous for me, kid. Y’know, he lied to your uncle. Told him Vader killed his dad, and that was the furthest thing from the truth,” Han snorted into his whiskey, then blanched, remembering that his son wasn’t in on the secret. His drink and anger at the twins made his lips loose, and for a second, Han gazed at his son with an intensity Ben hadn’t seen in years. It was if his father was at war with himself, and years later, Ben Solo realized that his father was. 

He’d wanted to tell Ben the _truth_. 

But when it came to matters of the Force, fear of his son’s potential and his wife’s fury won out, so instead, the old man shrugged off the boy’s insistent questions. “Look, he didn’t even tell your mom and Luke that they were related either, all right? Could’ve saved us all some awkwardness.” he muttered in a dark, almost jealous manner, and Ben Solo decided he didn’t want to know any more after that. 

It would’ve mattered more, Kylo thinks, had Han voiced his displeasure with Obi-Wan around his uncle. The two former best friends had a strange, strained relationship, perhaps stained with distrust or jealousy over his mother’s connection with her twin and amplified by Ben’s burgeoning Force abilities. It was as if Han never felt he could measure up to Luke (like father, like son); and Luke always felt like Han took Leia from him in some way that Kylo never understood. He’d always wondered if that was why Luke begged for them to give him Ben for so long, to let him take him and mold him, as if to replace the Leia-shaped hole in his life. Kylo can’t help but grin maliciously, thinking to himself how much Luke’s little plan backfired on him.

The name ‘Ben’ hadn’t even been his mother’s choice, she’d favored Bail or some other Alderaanian name. But no, Gods damned Luke Skywalker strode in and declared the child’s name as Ben, and despite his parents’ misgivings, they’d bowed to Luke. Just like on everything else when it came to the family. It infuriated Kylo as a boy, especially when watching his mother turn against his father because “Luke said.” 

Meanwhile, he was saddled with the name of a long-dead, barely known hero with a reputation blown to mythical proportions. His family vested him with all their dreams, hopes, goals and fears, giving him an impossible standard to live up to and all too happy to abandon him when he fell. 

It was a harsh truth, and one he long thought only he’d be able to see. That his family would never admit that they’d saddled him with a cross too big for a man, much less a child to bear, had doomed him from the start. Truth be told, this belief kept him from going back, giving in to the Light even when it burned brightly, when it sang, whether in the form of a pretty Scavenger from Jakku or the pleading of his father on Starkiller Base. Kylo’d based years of his life, his dedication to the Dark on his utter conviction that no matter what, his family could never accept him, could never see the truth behind the lies they’d painted in their heads. 

The spark of hope inside of him catches on this thought like tinder and takes root, warming the very core of Kylo Ren. 

Because Anakin saw through it all. Anakin saw the truth. And maybe, Ben Solo thinks, maybe his grandfather’s getting to the others. He’d all but accused Luke of turning him to the Dark Side. And what was that he mentioned about his mother?

_“Even while comatose, that woman is downright frightening when she’s pissed.”_

Ben feels a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. At the time he’d made it, Anakin’s comment had flown over Kylo’s head, all the other information thrown at him making the meaning behind his words slip away from his grandson until now. 

After all, Kylo Ren still holds darkness in his heart, and Luke Skywalker facing his mother’s unbridled fury makes it _sing_. 

Still, and despite everything, Kylo holds a fair amount of skepticism at his grandfather’s allegedly brilliant plan to help find his errant grandson balance. He’d learned at a young age to brace for disappointment, especially when it came to promises made by his own blood.

Plus, it relied on Skywalkers and Solos talking about their feelings. A huff of air escapes Kylo’s lips as he considers the likelihood of that happening, running a hand through his dark mop of curls, pushing it back from his face. 

“Kylo?” a sleepy murmur comes from the pillow next to him, and Kylo rolls his head to the side to face Rey. She’s got one eye cracked open, staring curiously and half-awake at him. Her hair’s sticking up, framing her head like rays of the sun, making her look both ridiculous and beautiful at the same time.

“Good morning, princess. Did I wake you?” Unlike his father, he used the royal title without any scorn or derision, and is rewarded with a smile brighter than a bursting Kyber crystal. Kylo lays a soft kiss on her freckled shoulder, enjoying how her skin rose up into tiny little bumps when he did. 

“No, I was already waking up.” she curled up tighter to him, his arm wrapping around her as her breasts squished up against his chest. It is another reminder of how very naked they are, and Kylo’s other head immediately supplies a list of things they should do that do not involve leaving their bed. 

He nuzzles her cheek affectionately before laying little kisses along her jawline. Her body’s so warm, so soft and he’s resolves to lose himself in it for a little while.

“Kylo? I heard your thoughts this morning. You… talked to your grandfather?” Rey’s voice, curious and yet shy, unsure, as she’d glimpsed his early morning musings through their (sometimes all too pesky) Bond. Shielding their thoughts from each other was getting harder and harder as they spent more and more time together, meaning they didn’t even have to try in order to hear the other’s thoughts. Rey felt almost voyeuristic, he could feel it, and was worried that Kylo would be angry at her for hearing him. 

Two weeks ago, he probably would’ve been, but Kylo Ren really can’t be angry at her at all. Especially not when she’s naked and in his bed. 

“Mmm hmmm,” Kylo nods slightly, and then begins drifting his hand further south beneath the sheets, hoping to distract his girl for the moment. Of course, he’ll tell her all about his Force dream with his grandfather, just _later._

His fingers drift over the swell of her peach shaped ass, growing fuller and stronger every day thanks to three months of regular meals and her impressive training regiment. Rey squeals, high-pitched and girly, as she reaches down to smack his hands away.

“Kylo! Focus! I’m trying to talk to you.” she chides, scootching her butt just far enough away so that he can’t reach it any more. 

“Talk later,” he grumbled eloquently as he curled back towards her warmth, missing her already. He reaches out, grasping for her and his fingertip brushes a nipple. The fleeting contact makes his cock twitch up, reminding him how very erect he’s become. Undeterred by Rey’s protests, he reaches out again, letting his fingers run over the pebbling, tender flesh, circling it before squeezing ever so gently. He’s rewarded with a moan from Rey, and he grins wickedly, pulling her back in with his free arm.

He knows victory when he sees it. 

“Later, my queen,” he whispers hotly in her ear, feeling her hands slide down his hard stomach. “Right now, I only want to think about you.”

———————————

They’re seventeen minutes late for breakfast, but both Kylo and Rey agree that the delay was totally worth it. Kylo’s decided that he will never tire of watching his girl come for him, the way her back arches and her eyes roll back into her head, his name a prayer on his lips. It’s the best thing he’s ever seen, more beautiful than the stars of the galaxy, and he’s determined to enjoy every last orgasm she grants him. 

Plus (and not that he’s bragging), he’d coaxed three out of her this morning: twice in bed and once more in the shower, fucking her with his fingers while she stroked his cock with her hand. He’d considered going to his knees and tasting her soaking cunt right then and there, but resisted after reminding himself of his plan to take it slow. 

It was getting harder and harder to adhere to his plan to take things slow, with Rey wanton and needy and naked before him. Kylo likes to assure himself that he’s doing this just to give Rey the romance she deserves. (Again, psychopath, sure; but a romantic one and certainly chivalrous when he wanted to be. He is, after all, a prince.) Han Solo, for all of his faults, did sit Kylo down at sixteen to give him ‘the talk’ about treating a woman right in bed. It’d been an embarrassing conversation, one that required copious amounts of whiskey on both of their parts. But, if one were to dig deep into the subconscious of his father’s killer, they’d find gratitude towards Han for this awkward lesson. Han made it clear that Solos upheld a certain reputation when it came to pleasing their mates in bed, one that even Certified Black Sheep Kylo Ren is all too happy to uphold. Later on, as Kylo got older, he learned that when it came to virgin women, there could be a certain amount of pain involved when it came to sex for the first time. After learning this through some pornographic holos, and considering his growing lust for a certain woman from Jakku, Kylo further researched this point. This not only verified this as not some made-for-porn myth, but also revealed that it is especially true when the man involved was well-endowed, something Kylo’s proud to qualify as. (He is a man, after all, and pride’s never been eschewed by the Dark side.) Kylo certainly doesn’t want to hurt his beautiful Rey the first time he makes love to her; he wants her to enjoy it just as he knows he will. It’s his hope that by taking it a little slower than he wants, he can warm her body up (so to speak) for him, making it easier on her. 

If one dug a little deeper, and perhaps injected Kylo with one of Kittara’s truth serums, they’d find that there’s actually another reason for his hesitance, one buried under Kylo’s bravado and protestations of romance. Truth be told, both Kylo and his warrior girl were touch-starved for so long; years without a kind touch or skin to skin contact. Now, they’re suddenly being touched all over with something better than kindness and it can be slightly… overwhelming at points. Almost like a rush of something so addicting and overpowering, like a fire so hot that one can only bear it for short intervals. He can feel it reverberating deep on both sides of their Bond, this ingrained distrust towards such kind feelings and touches. Rushing it would only cause one (or both) of them to run. 

This is why he’s built them up to this point with all these little brushes of skin on skin contact (well, that, and to actually seduce the object of his obsession). To get them used to the feeling of affection, of touch, of pleasure and not pain, the only language they were used to. This unfamiliarity and fading discomfort is what holds Kylo back, even when his body and hormones plead for tongues and lips (of all kinds) to replace fingers and hands. 

But again, this is not a truth Kylo Ren will every openly admit to himself, and so he doesn’t, instead admiring the scattering of yellow-purple bruises forming across his lover’s neck.

“Force, Kylo, you’re not supposed to try to eat your Bondmate,” Kittara remarked upon their arrival. She was already seated at the small dining table set up on the floor of his throne room, just below his dias. Plates of cured meats and biscuits make up a mouthwatering spread, and he hears Rey’s stomach rumble as she slides into her seat.

“And good morning to you too, Counselor Ren.” Kylo responds easily, determined to not take the bait. Kittara had dutifully followed protocol and waited for their arrival before even serving herself, one that left her with a gnawing stomach and surly attitude. 

None of them waste any time in eating, creating a comfortable silence as they chewed their selections. It affords Kylo another opportunity to watch Rey eat, never tiring of the way she looks when she tastes something new.

“Supreme Leader,” Kittara broke the silence first after swallowing her last biscuit covered in tart cheese and smoked fish, clearly ready to move onto business. While Kittara appreciated food, she also appreciated efficiency. “Now that you’re back on the _Finalizer_ , certain matters and parties require your presence. I’ve already scheduled them to ensure we can leave for our next destination without any potential delays or interruptions.” 

Kylo can’t help but groan. He knew this was coming, yes, but had been hoping Kittara would just funnel everything through his HoloPad so he could help Rey build her new lightsaber. He will never understand why people want to see the Supreme Leader personally when a damned comm would do just as well. 

Any further protestations are silenced by the glare Kittara shoots him, one promising him that she still carries a variety of poisons in her pockets and isn’t afraid to use them. 

“In one hour, you’ll meet with Admiral Peavey to discuss the continued re-organization of the Officers’ Brigade and possible dissenters within. At two hours, you have a holovid meeting with the Galantian leadership regarding their joining the Order. Then its a working lunch with me to review your upcoming travel schedule and appearance requirements. After that, the _Mirrorbright_ construction lead will be holovidding in to update you on the final touches. We’re wrapping up today with a call from the owners of Cantonica regarding the upcoming summit between the Orders and our allies and potential allies.”

Kylo doesn’t even realize he’s pinching his forehead until he opens his eyes and sees his glove in front of them. Diplomatic meetings upon diplomatic meetings. Kylo Ren wishes he’d just run after killing Snoke, forsaking the call of power that lured him to the throne. If he’d known this was it, he’d never have listened to it. 

Speaking of listening, Rey’s been soaking in his schedule with rapt attention. With their Bond as open and as strong as it is, Kylo sees that Rey’s never had such exposure to diplomatic matters or inter-planetary politics. Apparently, she was never deemed knowledgable enough by the Resistance leadership, something which Kylo scoffs at, offended on her behalf. Now, Rey’s dying to ask more. He can feel her curiosity threatening to overtake her, knows it’s why she’s stuffing another cheese and smoked fish disc into her mouth to keep herself from asking aloud. 

Briefly, Kylo considers switching places with Rey today, letting her lead the galaxy and him build her lightsaber. She’d probably do a far better job than he at either. Unfortunately, he knows that a lightsaber is a personal thing and an essential test of a Knight, Jedi or not. 

But Kylo’s desperate to give her all she wants, including mentally, and so he makes an alternative offer instead.

_**How about I keep our Bond open today, to the extent that I can. You can listen and watch all you want, and ask me questions tonight.** _

After all, he still fully intends on eventually making her his queen in more than just his bed.

_As long as you promise not to kill or inflict serious bodily injury on anyone._

_**I promise not to kill anyone.** _

_And?_

_**Or inflict serious bodily injury. Except Hux. I can’t be held responsible for anything there.** _

She tilts her head as if considering his terms, but the playful smile on her lips tell the Supreme Leader that he’s already won. 

_Deal._

“Hey! You two done Force-sexing over there?” Kittara snapped her fingers in the space between Kylo and Rey’s faces, illustrating her point. Rey blushed while Kylo glowered. 

“Good,” the redhead smirked, matching lips curling upwards in a twisted grin. “Cause its time for Rey to meet your Guard.”

Kylo blanched. He could feel his face paling, as he’d hoped Kittara had forgotten all about her plan but then again, when in their twenty-six years of friendship had Kittara Ren ever dropped a victory?

“Kittara, perhaps we should-“ Kylo started, only to be cut off with a wave of her dainty, ungloved hand.

“No, Kylo, we agreed, and a deal’s a deal. Besides, I’ve already informed them that they’re having an important, top-secret meeting with you this morning, and that they’re to disengage all monitoring devices in their armor during the meeting for security purposes.”

“Kylo,” Rey says softly, reassuringly, “it’s fine. I’m ready.” She places her hand over his, running her callused thumb across his palm and he sighs a surrender. 

Knowing she has Kylo cornered, Kittara flicks her hand again, summoning three previously unseen folding chairs from the wall they were leaning up against. With the Force, they glide over to the table with whip-like precision, unfolding as they moved. Kittara then tapped the fabric covering the inside of her wrist, switching on the comm unit sewn into her sleeve.

“TY-1985, please enter the Throne Room for our meeting with AO-1011 and OM-9843. Before you come in, please remember to follow all the protocols we discussed, and ensure your colleagues have also done so.” 

A moment passes before the main chamber doors swish open, the familiar clank of Stormtrooper boots on metal echoing throughout the glass-walled chambers. Kylo reluctantly removes his hand from under Rey’s to stand, letting his facial features freeze into the familiar mask of Kylo Ren, Supreme Leader and Jedi-Killer. 

Kittara stands also, moving over to take the empty chair next to Kylo so the three of them stood on one side of the table. As the Troopers approached, Kylo honed in on their movements and their minds to watch for any sign of remaining conditioning, of possible overconfidence in their plan. His fingers grazed the hilt of his saber, ready to draw if he detected even the slightest concern. 

But none surfaced. Their steps, while seemingly in unison, were off by fractions of a second, and their thoughts, while churning as they recognized the face from the Most Wanted holos in the woman before them, were chaotic and delightfully independent, free from the confines of their programming. 

They halt just before the table, raising their arms in crisp, snappy salutes. Kittara lowers herself to her seat, leaving Kylo to address his Guard.

“TY-1985, AO-1011, OM-9843. I’m sure you recognize the face of our very esteemed guest next to me, and now understand why Counselor Ren put such high security measures in place for this meeting.” Kylo’s voice is smooth, booming off the steel floors and glass walls. It sounds powerful, confident, dark, all the perfected persona of the Supreme Leader. A mask in the figurative sense, he thinks. Even Rey seems impressed at his commanding presence, making Kylo’s chest puff just the slightest. 

He somehow manages to ignore the briefest waft of arousal making its way through their Bond. It’s not his.

“Rey of Jakku, the last of the Jedi and one of the most powerful Force-users in the galaxy, is no longer with the Resistance. She’s seen the progress and order we’ve brought to the galaxy, and has offered an alliance with me - and with the First Order,” Kylo quickly adds. “She knows we are the only way to truly bring justice and peace. In return, I’ve offered her sanctuary and absolved her of all of her crimes against the First Order.”

This garners a flare of shock across the Bond, as well as a strong nudge from Kittara at his sudden and unexpected ad-libbing. Kylo pays it no mind. He’d planned on pardoning Rey anyway, and he needed to sell this to his Guard. Their loyalty to Hux may be broken, their loyalty to Kylo Ren must remain intact. 

His speech seems to work, as none of them even think for a second that Kylo’s betrayed the Order in any way. Kittara taps her finger on the black tablecloth twice, signaling that she sees the same.

Rey, however, is a different story. TY’s black lenses are locked on Rey, analyzing her for any sign of a potential threat to Kylo. While Rey knows she’s not one, and knows there’s no reason for alarm, she’s anything but. (Later, Kylo realizes how insensitive he was, given that every other time Rey’s stared down Stormtroopers it had been a sign that things had gone incredibly sideways on her end.) This only increases Rey’s anxiety, until it’s almost choking him through the Bond. Kylo knows if he looked over at her, he’d see her leg bouncing up and down, unbidden, while her fingers grasped at each other. 

She needs to see their faces, he thinks, remembering their fateful first interaction back on Starkiller Base.

_“… hunted by a monster in a mask.”_ her words drift back to him, and Kylo immediately knows how to soothe his beloved’s nerves.

“Troopers, remove your helmets and take a seat. Please.” he chokes out pleasantry as an afterthought, reminding himself that he must earn their devotion now that they’re free of their brainwashing. 

AO and OM exchange a glance before popping off their helmets, revealing the man and woman behind them. Now that his subordinates complied, TY pops his mask off, revealing gray eyes and close cropped blond hair.

“Rey, meet my personal guard. You may call them Terror, Alpha and Omega. They’ll protect you as they protect me until we can assemble one of your own.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOLY OVECHKIN YOU GUYS ARE AWESOME. I'm overwhelmed by the response to my three chapter update and the Anakin plot twist. I... look, guys, I was worried that I'd get comments like "your smut is way too extra" or "ok, the shark hath been jumped" but no, you guys loved it and were all so supportive and 
> 
> Seriously. 
> 
> Also, all those lovely comments helped me break through my fucking Writer's Block as I've been struggling with the "Meet the Troopers" scene for three weeks. As well as the scenes immediately following it. Mostly because we're putting pieces in place for the Big Reveal and Final Showdown, and I can't quite get things on paper like they're in my head. I still don't love the end of this chapter, but it's a lot better than where it started. 
> 
> Next week: Rey builds her lightsaber and Hux pokes the bear.


	19. Crush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey gets to know one of Kylo's guard a little better, and learns more about the Stormtrooper Trio in doing so. Meanwhile, Kittara's trying to keep Kylo's mind from wandering to his happy place (boning Rey, in case you're wondering) and... girl needs a drink. Too bad Kittara's not the only one noticing Kylo's sudden lack of an attention span.

Kylo Ren’s workshop revealed the man to be a tinkerer. 

That’s the first thing Rey thinks as she looks around the neurotically organized room. Just like everything touched by Kylo, all his little projects are tucked away in the correctly labeled drawer. ‘Saber Parts’. ‘Blasters.’ ‘Surveillance.’ His anal-retentiveness doesn’t surprise her, the man takes the time to hang his clothes up when she’s lying in his bed naked, for kriff’s sake. 

For once, Rey appreciates her Bondmate’s need for order, as it makes her foraging through his shelves and cabinets far easier. And once she starts exploring, she discovers all the little machines and parts Kylo’s long been toying with. Most in his surveillance drawer (or the fun drawer, as she’s dubbed it) are for his fancy TIE _Silencer_ , meant to help cloak or shield his movements. His saber drawer is filled with pieces that are clearly old modifications of his cross-guard lightsaber, eventually switched out for a newer piece or idea, but still hoarded away for future tinkering.

Rey can almost picture him spending sleepless nights here, safe in the small room as he solders pieces of wire to metal, cinching and twisting and hammering until things are just right. It’s soothing, familiar to Rey, another swath of common ground found. Going through Kylo’s relics puts a grin on her face as she searches for the necessary parts for her saber.

Lying on top of the metal workbench is Rey’s trusty old staff. She’s long planned, ever since the Skywalker saber shattered, to modify her scavenged weapon into her new lightsaber. Her staff is her prized possession, one that’s survived the deserts of Jakku, forests of Takodana, islands of Ahch-To and everywhere else as an extension of her own body. It’s a no brainer to Rey that this will be her next saber. 

Of course, she has to figure out how to actually build it first. 

Before Rey can even get to that point, however, she needs to procure kyber crystals. Kylo’d kindly offered her up free pick from his private collection, one he kept hidden in his workroom safe. She’d had to move hand-drawn plans Kylo’s framed and hung on the walls to find the damned safe. She finally located it secreted behind a copy of Kylo’s TIE _Silencer_ blueprints. 

Despite the swell of victory upon finding it, Rey’s hand hesitates as she reaches for the door.

Rey won’t lie, she’s disappointed that she won’t be able to travel to Ilum and find the crystals that call to her, sing to her, are meant for her. Even though she knows, deep down, that Ilum’s been stripped of every kyber crystal, no matter how small or powerless. The Empire long ago decimated Ilum and every other source of natural kyber, making them rare and practically priceless. Of course, a black market sprang up to take advantage of this rare commodity, although Rey’d already learned that most of the kyber crystals available for sale lacked the power needed to run a saber. 

So she knows she should be grateful - Hell, she is grateful - that Kylo Ren’s offering her his personal kyber stash. (Because _of course_ , any Jedi Killer worth his salt would have a gods-damned kyber treasury.) She just… 

She just wishes she’d be able to find one on her own like the Jedi of old. 

Then again, she’s not a Jedi, and Rey’s learned that believing in childhood legends only results in disappointment. 

‘Who knows,’ she tells herself reassuringly, ‘maybe that whole ‘there’s a kyber formed for a specific Force user’ story is just a load of bantha shit.’

Except she knows it’s not. She’s seen it, through Kylo’s memories, him finding the kyber meant for him, _his_ kyber. How he’d bonded to it, with it, making it a piece of him just like an arm or a leg. Made it his, to the point where he didn’t have to really even try to bleed it once he joined Snoke. 

Rey reminds herself not to dwell as she punches Kylo’s six-digit pin into the safe door. Hell, she’d been fighting (and fighting well) with a lightsaber made by Anakin Skywalker, so clearly, the bond with the kyber can’t matter all that much. With an almost obstinate whirr and a click, the lock disengages, allowing Rey to pull the heavy, durasteel enforced entrance open. 

What awaits Rey takes her breath away. It’s a scavenger’s dream find: glittering gems built into golden rings, a crown made of an expensive looking blue-green metal. Old sabers, an expensive, wooden calligraphy set. Books, so ancient that their leather covers peeled back and Rey feared that if she touched them, they’d crumble. And kyber crystals, so many kyber crystals. They felt endless, as Rey kept picking up one only to find another. She’d never seen such a variety in sizes and colors: emerald green, dark blue, light blue, magenta, gold. But as she picked each one up, her heart grew heavier and heavier with disappointment. Each one seemed to fade as she touched them, as if rejecting her as unworthy as a master. 

Tears sting at the corner of her eyes and she resists the urge to just give up. She can feel her lip quivering, and the hardened parts of her, shaped by sand and abandonment, grows angry at her weakness. It whispers to her to pay them no mind, their rejection - they’re just stones, after all, and she a powerful Force user. ‘Take them, make them yours, make them bend,’ it whispers darkly. ‘Scavengers don’t say please.’

As her resolve wavers, something catches Rey’s ear, distracting her from the dark call within. It sounds like the tinkling notes of the windchime she’d made as a child, back on Jakku: a collection of thin metal pipes scavenged from the wrecks nearby. As a girl, she’d likened the sound to fairy laughter, although she knew fairies weren’t found on Jakku. 

Not even fairies could survive the desert.

A soft breeze, hot and smelling of baked earth, brushes past her cheek, stirring a stray wisp of hair ever so slightly. Her skin pricks up as she recognizes the tell-tale signs of the Force reaching out to her, whispering to her, guiding her. Her hand slides away from the large, magenta kyber she’d been touching, drifting onto a soft, black velvet pouch. She feels hard lines hidden inside, where something hot, hot as the desert sun, calls to her, singing to her. She pulls the pouch out with a trembling hand, bringing her other up to the opening before she tilts it forward.

Two amethyst kyber crystals slide out with ease into her waiting palm. They hit her skin with a pop and a sizzle, Rey’s vision swimming before whiting out as the Force vision overtakes her. 

“The Jedi… the Force … All of it. It’s all true.” _Han._

“An elegant weapon, for a more civilized age.” An older, weathered voice, crisply accented like her own.

“The Force is strong in my family. I have it. My father has it. My sister has it.” _Luke._

“Time it is for you to look past an old pile of books, hmm?” Another unfamiliar voice, playful yet chiding. 

“You’re not alone.” _Ben._

And then, a vision- no, a memory- bursts before her eyes; one of a slightly younger Ben, black robes pulled tight around him as he makes his way through a marketplace. He is truly Kylo Ren here, though, masked and covered end to end. He stops, whirling around like he hears something, staring right at - no- through Rey before making his way towards her. 

More accurately, he’s heading straight for to the display next to her. There’s an indignant “oy! Them’s priceless-!” from the merchant behind her before Kylo cuts him off by raising his head enough to expose the full visage of his mask. His interrupter cowed, Kylo’s gaze lowers back to the same two crystals Rey now holds, listening to them call to him, speak to him. 

‘You will deliver us to the one. Our one.’ they sing in that tinkling, dreamy tone.

_**I will do no such thing.** _

‘Oh, but you will.’ the crystals laugh, two twin giggles that sound like glass. ‘You are hers, and she is yours. She is the key to your destiny, Kylo Ren.’

The scene changes, to something dark and powerful, ominous. Darkness, power, disappointment coils in Rey’s gut, making her tongue feeling oily and her skin crawl. 

_Snoke_ , she knows, and sure enough, it’s his voice that booms through her mind.

“You are a fool, Kylo Ren. These crystals sing for someone, yes, someone that will destroy you, destroy all we’ve worked for. A clever trick, a lightsider trick, meant to lead you astray and its working. All for the need of a connection, some - _compassion_.” Snoke growls the world with anything but, and a shock, harsh and electric, jerks through Rey’s system, making her eyes burn with fire. 

“Destroy them, Kylo Ren. Do not allow your silly dreams of finding some sympathy, some human touch, to distract you from your true destiny. Heir of Vader.”

“Yes,” she hears Kylo respond, but she knows he does not, instead secreting them away, far from where Snoke or Hux or anyone else will find them. Keeping them for the promise of a future.

The promise of her.

There’s another twisting of the world before her and suddenly, Rey’s standing on a balcony, overlooking a cheering crowd below. She’s draped in white shimmersilk, a fur lined cape warming her shoulders. She feels something heavy ringing her head as she waves to the crowd below, holorecorder droids zooming around them. Kylo stands next to her, beautiful and regal in his black accoutrements, a stark contrast to her attire. The blue-green crown she’d seen in his safe now sits on his head, nestled in his black curls. 

He turns to offer her a small smile.

“My queen,” he coos in that soft, proud tone, one meant just for her. She reaches to stroke his face, but before they can connect, everything goes black again, the Force jerking Rey away from its prophecy. 

“Dear child. The longing you seek is not behind you, it is in front of you.” 

_Maz._

And with that, Rey’s eyes begin working again, the familiar hum of machinery and recycled air returning before she sees she’s back in Kylo’s workshop again. Something hot and wet trickles down her face, over her lips and she instinctively licks it, tasting salt.

She’s crying, she realizes, but not from the pain of the past. It’s the promise of the future; a future she now holds in her hands. 

‘Hello, Rey,’ the crystals sing. ‘We’ve been waiting for you.’

—————————————

It takes awhile for Rey to come down from her Force vision, as well as to calm her very concerned Bondmate. Apparently, he saw or sensed nothing until Rey exited the vision, when he was hit with a sudden wave of Rey’s emotions. The fact that he didn’t also see the vision tells Rey it was meant for her only, but she promised to share what she saw with him tonight (partially because she wanted to; but also to get him to calm down and go back to governing). They already had too little time as it was, and Rey needs to focus on building her saber. 

Plus, using her hands will calm her frazzled nerves, allowing the former Scavenger to process in a manner she long found comforting. Rey spends the next couple hours building the actual housing for the kyber crystals, as well as the activation devices for each blade. She wants to be able to control them separately, as fighting in close confines means one blade is safer than two. 

Plus, she can save the second blade for an added element of surprise, something she finds highly appealing. 

Kylo holds true to his word and keeps their Bond wide open, giving her easy access to his eyes, ears, and his lightsaber building knowledge. She keeps an ear open, eavesdropping on his day as she builds out the protective casings, splicing wires here and there. His meetings are interesting, but not as interesting as her saber, and Rey soon finds herself fully immersed in the task before her. Time goes by faster than Rey realizes, as soon she hears the door swish open to reveal Omega walking in with a lunch tray in her hands. The Trooper’s not wearing her helmet, another courtesy to Rey, revealing her light brown skin, framed by a short bob of black, thick hair. 

Dark eyes, matching her hair color, shimmer with curiosity as she approaches Rey. 

“Supreme Leader requests that you eat. And then he adds ‘please’.” Omega slides the tray down on top of another metal bench, this one too tall to be comfortable for Rey, even standing. One look reveals that Kylo’s overdone it again; the tray’s stacked with enough food to satisfy a small battalion. 

“Here, stay. Eat with me, please,” Rey asks, meaning every word in her request. “I can’t possibly eat all this myself, anyways,” she grins earnestly. 

Omega looks taken back by Rey’s request, and it occurs to Rey that Troopers don’t eat with Officers here, not even Kylo’s personal guard. The ridiculousness of such rigid divides seems ludicrous to Rey, and it takes a moment for Omega to finally relax and nod her head, bob swishing as she does. The two women slide onto the floor, sitting cross-legged and next to each other as they start picking pieces of fruits and cheeses off the tray.

At first, the silence is awkward. Rey begins to doubt herself, her ability to make friends fumbling through her mind for potential topics of small talk (do they have friends in the First Order? she thinks before reminding herself that of course they do, that’s the whole point of encouraging Stormtrooper attachments.). She’s always struggled with this, thanks to her years of undersocialization on Jakku, and she begins to feel like she did in those early days, back on the Resistance base. When she felt so lost any time Finn or Chewie wasn’t right beside her. 

“So, I’m in love with your Supreme Leader, in case you can’t tell,” doesn’t seem like a good place to start, either.

“Is it true,” Omega starts, breaking the ice with a shy voice, “that you’re secretly a Skywalker?”

It shouldn’t be funny. Not when it was once something Rey wished for, hoped for, until she found how broken and messed up that family really was. Perhaps its the foolishness of that long abandoned dream that spurs the laughter bursting out from Rey’s lips. It begins as a chuckle, soon devolving into full-blown hysteria. Tears run down her cheeks as she clutches her stomach, aching from laughter, as she finally calms down.

Omega’s giggling too, although nowhere near Rey’s level. “I guess that answers that. I told Alpha he was wrong.”

Rey wipes the last tears away from her eyes, nodding. It’s been too long since she laughed like that, she thinks. Like a simple girl gossiping with her girlfriends about love and sex and all those silly things, not a warrior with the galaxy’s weight crushing her shoulders. 

“I’m a nobody. Some abandoned kid from Jakku, parents were nobodies. Definitely not a kriffing Skywalker.”

_**Thank the Force, that would be awkward. And illegal in most systems.** _

_Bored already?_

_**Just checking in. You’re beautiful when you laugh, you know.** _

Now Rey’s blushing furiously with no way to explain it. Omega, bless her, takes it as embarrassment at her admission and immediately goes to soothe her.

“Oh, come on, you’re not nobody. You’re the so-called last Jedi-“

“Not really. Never was, either.”

“Fine, but everyone says you have Force abilities that match the Supreme Leader’s. And trust me, he doesn’t look at you like you’re nobody.” Omega smiles, then blanches, catching herself. “I’m so sorry, Lady Rey, that was inappropriate of me and-“

“No, no, please. It’s nice to talk to another girl and just be normal. And please, none of this ‘Lady’ crap. I don’t know why Kylo and Kittara insist upon it.” This was true, the first time she’d heard it, she’d gagged, then glared at the two of them, incensed. 

There were many things you could call Rey, but ‘Lady’ certainly wasn’t one of them. 

Omega’s eyes just about bug out at the informal use of the Knights’ first names. She’s got a sweet, heart-shaped face with still soft, chubby cheeks, and Rey wonders how old she is. 

“Twenty-four, La- Ma’am.” Omega responds, spurring Rey’s realization that she’d asked the question out loud. It’s a terribly rude question, Rey knows that (Leia admonished her once after she’d dared ask the General the same question), but Omega doesn’t seem terribly offended. “It’s the baby face, blessing and a curse.” she explains. 

“Ah.”

“And you?”

“I don’t know. Twenty, I think. Maybe twenty-one.” Rey says softly. The pain of her parents’ abandonment aren’t as sharp anymore, faded by time and soothed by Kylo’s affections. 

Doesn’t mean it’s totally gone, though.

“Fellow orphan, I gotcha. I only know because of the records on Corellia, at my orphanage.”

“You’re Corellian?” Rey asks, biting off the part that ended with “but you don’t look Corellian!”

“Nah, that’s just where my mom ditched me. I’m Mando’a. Had I been able to get back to my home planet, my clan would’ve taken me in. Mando don’t really do that whole orphan thing, we’re too family-centric, I hear. Or that’s what Supreme Leader told me. He’s even taught me some Mandalorian on our longer travels.”

Rey’s eyebrows must be into her hairline, because Omega laughs upon seeing her expression. “He’s been trying to be more… human. It’s a nice change, y’know. From the last-“ and there, Omega does stop herself, as if remembering whom she was speaking with and what Rey was accused of (or was until this morning). Instead, the trooper pops another slice of creamy cheese into her mouth, savoring the contrast with the slice of tart green fruit that she’d topped it with. The fruit crunches loudly as she bites down. 

“So, you and Alpha?” Rey can’t help but ask. Maybe her nosy questions will continue to put the other woman at ease, she hopes, and besides, she’s been curious since she observed the little glances between the two back in the throne room this morning. She must be onto something because the dark-haired woman blushes intensely, ducking her head. 

“Yeah. That’s how we got our nicknames, Alpha and Omega. There’s some species out there on Felucia where everyone lives in packs, right? And there’s a couple that leads them all, one of which is the Alpha and the other is an Omega. Apparently, they have crazy sex drives and hump all over the place,” Omega giggles, and now it really does feel like two girls gossiping over boys. Like sneaking out with Rose and Pava to laugh and whisper under the starlight, all under the guise of guard duty. 

“Anyways, Terror knows about these types, he’s seen ‘em. And says the Alpha Male is like - whoa. Just super muscular and kind of a hot head, well, more than kind of, and just like, your typical guy plus ten. They’re only calmed down by their Omega mates, who have this magical ability to just… soothe them. Something about pheromones. Anyways, my Alpha, he’s definitely your full-blooded male and gots the temper to boot. Especially when it came to me. You’d think I was some officer instead of a Stormtrooper. But I always seem to be able to calm him down, even before we were… a thing. So when the Supreme Leader relaxed the rules and allowed us to pick nicknames, Terror was the one who came up with Alpha and Omega and it just stuck.” Omega shrugged as she ended it, ripping her slice of cheese into little pieces before eating it. 

“That’s sweet. You guys seem really… I don’t know, good, if that makes sense. Although, I can definitely think of some other Alpha male types,” Rey whispers the last part conspiratorially. Omega laughed in response, head tipping back and Rey can’t help but think she must feel the same way too, surrounded by all men and aching for female contact. 

“Wait, what about Terror? How’d he get his name?” Rey asked as she split the last piece of muja fruit in two to share. Omega gave her an appreciative, yet shocked grin, still not used to such an important person treating her like some sort of equal.

“Terror had to pilot the shuttle once.”

“And?”

“And that’s how he got his name. He doesn’t pilot any more.”

There’s another fit of giggles between the two before Omega stands up, brushing off her pants before she picks the tray up off the floor. 

“Thanks for the lunch, Ma’am.”

“Please, just call me Rey.”

Omega sighed. “Only in private, ma’am.”

“We’re in private now, aren’t we?”

“You tell me,” Omega winked, and Rey wonders just how much Kylo’s guard has picked up on over these last three months. 

_**I told them about our Bond. Sorry. Terror was … overly concerned about potential plots on my life.** _

_Ah. Here I was thinking you were just terrible at secrets._

_**Luckily, I’m not, or we’d both be dead by now.** _

“Omega? Can I ask you one last thing?” Rey said, stopping the woman just before she left. She’d shoved her helmet back on, so when she turned, Rey had to fight the nauseating panic she felt as a Trooper’s emotionless face stared back at her. 

‘Better get used to it, Rey, ‘cause you’re on a ship full of them.’ she reminded herself.

“Who named Terror?” she asks out loud, proud that she kept the fear out of her voice.

Something like a snort comes through the helmet’s vocoder, slightly distorted so it sounds almost like a sneeze. “The Supreme Leader.” Omega responds as she walks away with a wave, leaving a chuckling Rey in her wake.

——————————

The next interruption came internally. Or, well, from inside’s Rey’s head thanks to the wide-open Force Bond. 

She’d just finished attaching the wiring for her first kyber crystal into the shorn off hilt of her staff (she’d lopped off the ends to make it a reasonable size, tucking the spare pieces up against a wall for safe-keeping) when a flare of annoyance shot across their Bond. In her mind, Rey’s looking through Kylo’s eyes at an equally perturbed looking Kittara Ren, one hand on her hip and another clutching her HoloPad as if ready to chuck it at someone. 

“This isn’t an option. You’re going to the Cantonica summit.”

“I don’t recall dying and making you Supreme Leader, Kittara, so yes, it is optional. For me.”

“First, I can arrange that. Second, the Hell it is.”

Kylo’s eyes flicker towards a very bored looking Terror, standing at attention but apparently unalarmed by Kittara’s threat. 

“Kittara, I’m busy. In case you haven’t forgotten, Rey and I are attempting to do something that no one’s done before-“

“Uh, one person has, I believe you call her Ahsoka.” Kittara hissed, voice lowering when she said Ahsoka’s name. Still, it shocks Rey with her brazenness. “Besides, I don’t care. This is one of the most important appearances on your calendar. It’s a summit to lay out your new plans for the Order and unveil _Mirrorbright_ to not only our established allies, but those likely to join and who will be certainly convinced one they see what we’re doing!”

“Yes, but-“

“No, no buts, Kylo Ren. This was your idea-“

“Holding it on Cantonica was yours.”

“- Oh, just shut UP for Force’s sake, Kylo. Before I shove this lightsaber up your ass.”

Again, blatant threat and no movement from Terror. Rey’s not impressed with the so-called leader of Kylo’s personal guard. 

_**It’s because we’re not speaking Aurebesh.** _

That jerks Rey’s head up, and she listens closer, watching Kittara’s lips as she spewed another insult towards her leader.

“You obstinate, pompous -“

_Sithspit,_ Rey realizes with a shock.

_**Or just Sith, but yes. It’s another security measure, just in case.** _

_Why is it that I can understand it, speak it?_

_**Because it speaks to your Darkness.** _

_There is no Dark Side, Kylo._

_**You know what I mean. We both respond to all pieces of the Force. That’s why.** _

Gods, she can feel him smirking through the Force Bond. Lovers or not, he still enjoys getting a one-up on Rey, and the brunette woman can’t help but roll her eyes dramatically. 

Kittara might not be _too_ far off in her description of him.

_**You’re so damned pretty when you’re mad, you know that, Sweetheart?**_ Kylo purrs, his voice sounding like his mouth is right next to her ear and Rey shivers. There’s a tickling feeling of something gently brushing down her neck, a phantom touch through the Force. Kylo. Rey can’t help but lean into it, tilting her neck back to the side to-

“KYLO. FOCUS. For the love of the Force, you two are the fucking worst.” Kittara erupts, interrupting Kylo’s attempted seduction. Somehow, the First Order’s counsel learned to pick up on when Kylo’s distracted by Rey through their Bond (a skill she will certainly find handy). While Rey can’t help but chuckle, Kylo’s anything but amused. He rises up from his throne, glowering down at his Right Hand.

“Kittara, don’t forget-“

“Don’t give me that Supreme Leader shit, okay, Solo?” She hisses, eyes flashing. The use of his surname is enough of a blow to send Kylo back to his seat, but his rage simmers like a pot ready to boil over. “Kylo Ren, my master. Don’t forget that I know your secrets. I am your ally, and I want you to succeed, but don’t you dare make me regret that.” 

Using Sithspit makes their anger flare brighter, dancing with the oily language in a deadly way that makes Rey shiver for a whole different reason. 

“No one else can announce this but you. It can’t be me, it won’t mean anything. For this to make the impact, it needs to be you.”

There’s a long silence as Kylo broods, mulling it all over in his head. He’s known Kittara was right for awhile now, but still won’t cede the argument.

“What about Rey?” he asks finally, defeat coloring his tone. 

“Bring her with you.”

“Kittara. You’re insane.” The lid on the pot rattles threateningly as the rage inside starts to boil over.

“No, I’m not. Think about it, Supreme Leader. Think about what unveiling the last Jedi as your ally, as our newest recruit will mean to the Nabians, the Chandrilans, the Dulathians - all the important hold outs that still haven’t cut all ties to the Resistance!”

“Rey is not some PR tool to be trotted out. Nor is she a weapon. This is not up for discussion.”

“Okay, so you’re going to leave her with … Hux?” Kittara shot back, eliciting another frustrated growl from Kylo. He felt caged, trapped, with no good options. Rey can feel his frustration, the whirlwind of emotions of needing to protect her, honor his promises, but also secure the Order, complete their mission.

Rey sets down her tools, intending to intervene. Before she can step away from her workbench, Kittara turns her head towards Terror, nodding at him. 

“Terror. Alpha. Supreme Leader and I need a moment in privacy.” she requests, even though neither had been paying any ounce of attention to their conversation in a language they couldn’t even understand. Despite this, both of the men promptly stride out of the room to wait in Kylo’s antechamber, leaving the Master alone with his Knight. 

At the sound of the chamber doors hissing shut, Kittara’s haughty pose vanishes, shoulders relaxing. She steps halfway up the black dais, and her voice warms with familiarity. Kindness.

“Kylo.” she starts, dropping all pretenses and titles to use his chosen name. “Allow me to speak not as your counsel, but as your friend.”

Kylo says nothing but makes no move to silence her either, choosing to keep glaring instead. It’s a look Rey’s quite acquainted with, Kylo’s non-verbal way of saying that he’s listening, but he’s not happy about it. 

“I know your heart, Kylo. I know you don’t want to force Rey to do anything she doesn’t want to do; I know you’re hellbent on making sure any involvement she engages in is by her choice.” 

The Supreme Leader allows a curt nod, and Rey can feel his obstinance softening ever so slightly. 

“And I think Rey knows this, you’ve proven this to her time and time again. You’ve shown her that you will not use her as a weapon, you’re no Snoke, no Hux, no Poe Dameron.” The fact that Kittara refrains from spitting those names impresses Rey, although the sour look on the redhead’s face shows how much she wants to. 

“But, Kylo, in being so … concerned… about accidentally or unintentionally coercing Rey or influencing her decisions regarding the Order, you’re actually undermining her choices.”

Naturally, Kylo’s temper flares at the accusation, but Kittara holds up a hand, locking him in place with the Force. It’s a bold move, one he could break once he set his mind to it, yet it takes him so off guard that he makes no such move to resist. 

“Listen. Rey’s told you, time and time again, that she wants to help you, that she stands with you - both in your quest to find balance, but also with you as Supreme Leader. She made that perfectly clear last night. And yet, you’re still trying to make the decision for her about her level of involvement. You’re still trying to protect her, but in doing so, you’re ignoring the choices she’s already made. You’re robbing her of her self-determination.

“Ky, you have to trust her. She’ll tell you ‘no’ if she’s not comfortable, she’s not ready. Trust her. Trust her to be honest with you. Do not steal her independence by making up her mind for her. Let her do it on her own, and trust in her decision.” Kittara’s tone velvet and steel, and she casts a small smile towards her long-time friend. It’s the first time Rey’s seen a truly genuine smile curl Kittara’s ruby red lips, the first truly free of a plot or a smirk. It is not a smile belonging to Kittara Ren, fearsome Counsel and Knight of Ren; but a ghost of Amara Tarkin. 

Kittara’s smile has the same effect on Kylo. With only the slightest nudge of warmth from Rey (because after all, they’re supposed to be practicing balancing each other, right?), the last of his fury drains and his stone-like composure crumbles. With a dragging sigh, one that tells Rey he’s dragging his hand through his hair as he makes it, he mutters what sounds curiously close to “you’re right.”

Rey can’t help but smile into her work, heart thumping as she realizes just what Kylo’s surrender - and Kittara’s prompting - means. Despite Kittara’s concerns, she’s gone to bat for Rey in their relationship, using her influence with Kylo to help strengthen them as a couple (and in Rey’s favor). In doing so, Rey knows Kittara’s implicitly given her approval of them, and Rey finds herself letting go of a worry she hadn’t even known she held.

It doesn’t hurt that Kittara’s words are true. Kylo’s overbearing chivalry and protectiveness has been a growing source of frustration for Rey. She’d resigned herself to holding her tongue for the time being, waiting to bring it up until the time was right - even as that got harder and harder. Deep down, Rey knew she’d eventually explode before such a time arrived, as her patience had never been known for its endurance, and the truth would likely come out through ugly words and raised voices. She’d started to get into it last night, and yes, maybe, she should’ve pushed the matter, put it all on the table, but… 

Yeah, yeah, raging hormones got the best of her. ‘Sue me,’ Rey thinks. ‘After all, how could I not be distracted when we were finally alone in his room?’

Plus, the end result was incredibly enjoyable for her. 

A deep chuckle in the back of her mind tells her that now Kylo’s the one eavesdropping via Force Bond, and with an embarrassed blush, Rey re-focuses on building her saber. 

_**Just wait till tonight, my gorgeous desert girl.** _

If Rey’s cheeks got any redder, there was no one around to tell.

The matter’s tabled for further discussion, one Rey can be present for (even though Rey knows she’ll be agreeing to Cantonica. After all, she’d already promised him she’d stick by his side last night). With that, Kittara summons the return of Kylo’s guard, and it doesn’t take long for them to move on to the next part of today’s agenda. More people enter, as Kylo’s meeting with some dignitaries with personality so dry, Rey finds both hers and Kylo’s mind wandering at certain points. Both their attention spans tend to go on these unsanctioned frolics together, which helps Kylo keep himself from murdering Hux when the General interrupts after fifteen minutes or so, and then inserts himself into the meeting, uninvited. 

At one point, Rey’s imagination drifts to what exactly Kylo had planned for tonight (which immediately gets his attention, causing him to add some of his own contributions). None of which are appropriate for the workplace, especially Kylo’s memory of watching Rey arch her back, sucking his fingers in tighten to her pussy as her walls fluttered around them, skin flushed and golden and -

_Kylo! Focus, love, this is an important meeting._ Rey’s blushing again, another victory for the Supreme Leader as she pushes his focus back to the men in front of him. _Besides, I need to focus too, and you’re being terribly distracting._

Back on his throne, an amused smirk danced across Kylo Ren’s lips, so brief that the dignitary who noticed it convinces himself that it was nothing more than an odd hallucination. 

Unfortunately, one General Armitage Hux also notices, very much so. The third in command and hopeful usurper narrows his ice blue eyes at the dark, hulking man down the table. There’s something very off about Kylo Ren, something incredibly… suspicious. His unannounced trips, sudden changes of plan, his somehow increased levels of secrecy. 

Yes, something was going on, and whatever it was, Armitage Hux did not like it. Especially not if it posed a potential threat to his plans. No, the general thinks, he cannot afford any further setbacks. 

Hux quickly buries that train of thought, hoping the redheaded psychopath two seats down didn’t pick up on his brief lapse of judgment. 

She did.

’Fuck,’ Kittara resists the urge to sigh, making sure her face stays set in its neutral mask. She stills her eyes to keep them from flickering towards the ginger-haired pain in her ass sitting to her left. Normally, the prick kept any treasonous thoughts carefully hidden, never daring to think about them around either Knight of Ren. The man knows it to be the only safe way to keep any plots safe from the Force, a lesson learned from his time under Snoke. The fact that he daringly referenced them, even for a split second, was A Very Bad Sign. 

Kittara’s glad she’d been listening so carefully, Force-ears attuned to all the minds in the room. Had she not been, she would’ve missed it. 

‘Rey, you better get that lightsaber finished soon,’ she prays silently, sending it out into space. Hopefully, the Force continues to smile on them, or else they were all going to be completely and totally fucked. 

And not in a fun way. 

=========================

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, I'm horrible. I promised y'all some Hux deviousness and then, after Bunilicious asked a great comment about my writing process, I realized I really needed to re-work my outline. When I did, I realized that somewhere, I took a left turn, and then another left turn, and then stopped at a bar, then drove south instead of north, and... totally re-wrote the rest of my outline. I'm back on track, baby! This, unfortunately, resulted in some stuff for today being pushed out (as well as my in-laws stopping by for a surprise visit). So, instead, I gave you a brief glimpse into Hux's and Kittara's minds to set the stage for next week. 
> 
> Also, the writing the saber scenes are being purposely glossed over because I don't know shit about how one builds a lightsaber. Y'know, other than you need a kyber crystal and an on button. 
> 
> Please enjoy the blatant A/B/O reference in the Troopers because I've been loving on those fics recently. I know I have an ask for other fics waiting to be fulfilled on my tumblr, and I promise to include my fave abos there. (Additionally, if I was casting this as a movie: Omega is Selena Gomez, Trooper is the Rock. I haven't yet pinned down an actor for Alpha.)
> 
> Once again, you guys are so fucking fabulous with the kudos, comments and bookmarks. I love you all and live for your comments. Seriously. You're the best readers a fic writer can ask for and I <3 you all. 
> 
> PS: To all my fellow Americans, happy (early) Fourth!


	20. If We Just Lay Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo and Rey actually talk about things, and it goes... surprisingly well.

At first, Rey doesn’t even realize she’s done it. 

She’s been working on her lightsaber for hours. Kylo’s meetings have long concluded; yet, he’s still not ready to pull her away for dinner, content to let his little Scavenger work. Rey senses that he’s holed up in his office across the hall, close enough to make their Bond happy, far enough apart to allow her to work without serious distraction. 

She’s assembled the saberstaff mechanism and electronics, it’s now all about inserting the kyber crystals into their chambers and connecting them to the system inside. This, she knows, from the Jedi texts, from Kylo, from lore itself, is the most difficult, most dangerous step of lightsaber assembly. A crystal can overheat and explode, the blade can self-activate, fires and electric shocks are common. 

Safe to say, its no wonder there were so many one-handed Jedi back in the day. 

Rey, fully intending on keeping all her appendages, pours all her attention into the delicate process. This is why it takes her a fair amount of time before she realizes the room has faded from her view, that she’s now in a place made up of nothing but blue-gray mist.

All she can see is her saber before her. 

That, and a long rope made of gold and silver strands, an umbilical cord forged by the Force, connecting her to Kylo. It sighs and hums in the background, muted and silent in this astral plane, one she’d unwittingly entered during her unintended meditation. 

_**Careful**_ , Kylo whispers, and like that, he’s there too. Unlike Rey, his eyes are closed, face blank, almost serene looking. He’s sitting across from her, legs crossed, deep in a meditative trance, watching her, supervising her during this difficult of her build. 

Keeping her grounded, Rey thinks.

For a second, the world shakes as a sense of jubilation overtakes her, this realization that they’re finally doing it. Meditating. Together. 

Hell, meditating _alone_ was enough of a reason to celebrate, but together?

This was a gods-damned miracle.

 _ **Focus, Rey**_. Kylo’s positively zen, and he pushes calm towards her, through their Bond. It’s like a fuzzy blanket, wrapping around her and muting her glee, bringing her back to her task at hand. 

Right, hands. More accurately, not losing one. 

It takes a few more minutes of using the Force to ease the kyber this way, then that way, tweaking this connection, moving that latch, before Rey’s finally satisfied. With a trembling hand, she raises the saber, unsure fingers flicking on the activation switch for the finished side. 

A brilliant, bright lavender blade of light springs first, the telltale hum of a saber buzzing in her ears. With a whoop, Rey raises the blade above her head, pride and relief and joy overtaking her as she -

She falls?

More like as her knees gave out, she realizes, crumpling towards the floor of Kylo’s workshop. Rey’s emotional tsunami ripped her out of her meditation with the grace of a panicking bantha, leaving her panting and uncoordinated, muscles uncooperative. With a very ungraceful thud and a startled yelp, Rey hit the hard floor, groaning as her legs twitched.

Luckily, Rey’s automatic deadman’s switch also worked, and the saber’s blade vanishes as soon as she drops it. This meant that while Rey may have lost her dignity, she got to keep all her extremities. 

Good news, she thought with a grin. Nothing could bring her down now. 

Her victory celebration’s cut short by the door swooshing open to reveal one panicking Supreme Leader. Upon seeing her on the floor, Rey finds herself scooped up, bridal carry (oh, _fine_ , she thinks, she doesn’t really hate this that much) and into his arms. Concerned eyes scan her face, appraising her for any damage.

“I did it! I did half! It half works! Kylo, Kylo thank you, thank you for the crystals, thank you for your help, I couldn’t have done it without you and we meditated, we kriffing meditated and-“

“Rey, Rey, calm down, please.” Kylo begged, unable to keep up with the words tumbling out of her mouth. (He also wanted to make sure she quit her excited babbling long enough to inhale soon, given that even Force users require oxygen.) 

“Kylo. Kylo, we did it.” she breathes, eyes sparkling as she shakily summons enough strength to lean up and kiss him. With a sigh, Kylo gently pulls her back down, continuing to cradle her. 

“What’s wrong?” Rey’s joy vanished, eyes searching his for some sign.

“Nothing’s wrong, just save your strength, sweetheart,” Kylo reassured her, placing a soft kiss on her forehead. Rey frowned, mildly insulted by the patronizing tone.

“I’m fine, I just fell out of the mediation suddenly, that’s all.” 

There’s a brief silence, and then: “Rey, can you feel your legs?” Kylo’s tone is somewhere between amused and exhausted. 

“Of course I can feel my-“ Rey can feel her legs (they feel like limp noodles, to be precise) and to prove it, she goes to wiggle her feet, and then stops when she can’t. Her skin goes pale as her mouth flops open in horror. “Kylo! My legs! I can’t move my-“

“Shh, calm down, Scavenger Queen,” Kylo chuckles. The new endearment somehow both stokes Rey’s indigence and makes her insides melt. “You’ve overdone it with the Force in assembling your saber - pushed yourself too far. I think that’s why I felt the urge to try to meditate, to lend you a little of my strength. But you’re done for today.” He said, standing up with her still tucked against his chest. 

“So… I’ll have use of my legs again soon?” Rey asked hesitantly, drawing another soft laugh from the former Jedi-Killer.

“Indeed, after you eat and rest you should be back to normal.”

“I can finish my saber tonight, then!” Rey starts to sit back up as Kylo carries her towards their chambers, where she can smell dinner waiting for them. Pasta, Chandrilan, she’s betting by the smell of it. Her stomach grumbles, as if protesting, and she wordlessly curses its betrayal.

“You’re picking up fast.” Kylo half-grins, lopsided enough to show his crooked teeth Rey finds so endearing. “On both the food and the lightsaber building. But you are not finishing the latter tonight.”

“The Hell I’m not.” Rey growls.

“The Hell you are. And I’m not carrying you back to the workroom, so good luck getting to it.” Kylo glowers down at her, resisting the urge to dump her on the gray couch he’s approaching as revenge for her insolence. However, his concern outweighs any petty desires, and so he instead gently lowers her down, propping her up against a nest of matching pillows. Soon there’s a bowl of white pasta precariously balanced on her chest, little clams and mussels floating in the sauce. Rey’s not about to let Kylo feed her (“I’m not a bloody invalid,” she snaps before softening and apologizing), so she makes do, trying not to make too much of a mess as she twirls the stringy noodles on her fork and maneuvers them to her mouth. 

Kylo frowns as he watches her. “You’re lucky you’re so cute,” he mutters. 

“That’s right, I’m Gods damned adorable.” she retorts around a mouth full of food, too tired to remember to chew, swallow, then talk. Kylo only groans, rolling his eyes up and towards the ceiling as if sending up a prayer. 

“We can meditate together,” Rey finally chirps after stabbing the last floating clam and bringing it to her mouth. She wiggles her toes successfully, strength already returning with her carb-laden dinner. 

“As long as we’re in different rooms, yes,” Kylo says, and the corners of his mouth twitch like he can’t decide whether to smile or frown. 

“Is that not how it normally goes?” Rey can’t help but ask, already knowing the answer was definitely ‘no’. She passes her now-empty bowl to Kylo, who sets it back on the table before turning back towards her.

“My hope is we can build off of this, use it to help us get to that point.”

Rey can think of some other ways to help them get to that point, now that her belly is full and she can roll her ankles. Her legs, however, betray her. They’re suddenly on pins and needles, as if they’d fallen asleep from a lack of bloodflow.

“Aahh!” she can’t help but cry out, and at this, Kylo chuckles. She responds by very regally sticking her tongue out, which gets her a growl, followed by a kiss that would make a Hutt blush. 

Rey moans as Kylo bends over her, deepening his assault on her mouth. His lips feel so good, so warm and plush, she could kiss them forever. Who cares about her legs still barely functioning (she can feel the essential bit between them, and that’s _very_ alive and well), or about all those things they need to talk about-

Ah, kriff. Right. Cantonica and the vision and all the other unfinished conversations come swimming back to her, breaking through her lusty haze. 

“Kylo,” she manages to gasp between kisses, trying to move her arms up to push him away. “Kylo, love, please.” He captures her lips again, silencing her for a moment before she breaks free. “We- have- mmph- talk!”

Finally, she’s able to push him far enough back to cease his war on her mouth, although her resolve wavers as she sees black eyes gazing hotly back at her. The familiar burning clench starts making its way through her, and she gulps, frozen.

“Ye-es?” Kylo stretches out the word impatiently, although he’s incredibly amused watching the battle of hormones versus curiosity play out on his girl’s beautiful face. Finally, he grants her some quarter, maneuvering himself around and then behind her so he’s sitting up against the pillow with Rey between his thick thighs, facing away from him and leaning up against him.

He makes sure to tuck a pillow between them so his erection doesn’t poke her spine. He can’t imagine that would be enjoyable. 

_No, but I can think of other places I’d enjoy it poking me._ She teases, suddenly very distracted by him (specifically, an increasingly hard part of him). She turns her head towards Kylo’s so he can see the wicked glint in her eye. Slowly, a slender hand starts worming its way behind her, under the pillow. It continues its march towards his stiffening cock until Kylo catches it, dragging it out and bringing the palm up to kiss it. 

“Focus, Rey,” he tells her for the second time in so many hours and she huffs.

“You started it.”

“Indeed. But you’re right, we should talk now. Besides, I’m going to need you to have full use of your legs.” His words elicit a delicious shiver, and Rey struggles to keep her attention span in check.

“Cantonica. Tell me about it.” she commands, and Kylo freezes, then utters a curse. He obviously hadn’t expected Rey to go straight for that, secretly hoping they’d start with Hux or her vision or anything else. 

Mood sufficiently killed, he runs a hand through his thick curls before speaking.

“The Cantonica summit is a diplomatic conference of myself, all planetary and systematic leaders that have already joined the Order, as well as potential allies, labor and union representatives, as well as business representatives, on a neutral planet to discuss my vision for the First Order and where I intend to take things.” He says cooly, hoping his little spiel will sound so boring that Rey chooses to stay far, far away from it. 

“Fat chance,” she snorts, reading his mind. “Go on.”

He works his jaw before continuing. “I’m announcing my plans for reforming the Imperial Senate to give worlds and systems an actual say in the governing of the galaxy. My hope is its one that will convince more holdouts to join us, as well as keep those wavering in. It will make Hux deeply unhappy, however, as any sign of democracy is a threat to his maniacal plans of galactic domination.”

“Meaning once you announce, Hux’s going to start moving forwards with anything he’s been planning.” It’s something Kylo already knows, but he nods anyways, affirming Rey’s words. 

“We know he’s planning something. He let a thought slip during a meeting today, something Kittara picked up on. She only got enough to know he’s got some sort of a plan, but no details.”

Rey’s frown deepens at this, her concern for Kylo spiking. His return from Cantonica could very well lead him into walking into a trap on his own ship, she thinks, a shiver running down her spine. 

“Where- where’s your Senate going to meet?” She asks, not wanting to forget the question before moving into the Hux threat further.

“Hmm?” Kylo asks, clearly caught off guard. 

“Your Senate. Where will they meet? Coruscant? I mean, Hux and the Order blew up Hosnian Prime. Why should they trust you to not do that again?”

It’s a point that Kylo’s pondered countless times, one that forced him to think outside the box. Eventually, he came up with a unique, yet brilliant solution, one that he’d kept hidden - even from Rey.

Until now, he thinks. He’d vowed to put all the cards on the table tonight, and this… this was his Ace. 

He sighs, preparing himself and trying to assemble the words in a way that made sense.

What he came up with was: “I made another Starkiller Base. Except this doesn’t have a superweapon, it has a supershield. One so powerful that even another actual Starkiller Base couldn’t destroy it. I made it to hold the government, protect them from Hux’s tyranny.” the words come out rushed, almost babbling, and Rey lurches forward, confusion written across her face. She twists herself around so she can look at him, reading his emotions through his too-expressive eyes. 

“Wait, what?”

Another long sigh. “Remember Starkiller Base?”

“Yes, rather unforgettable, that place was.”

“Right. Um, remember the weapon?”

“Kind of hard to miss, so yes.”

“Okay. So, I made another Starkiller Base, except I modified the plans. Heavily.”

“Ye-es?” Rey parroted Kylo’s tone from earlier, dragging out the word with narrowed eyes, showing her annoyance at having to similarly drag the information out of her Bondmate. 

“For starters, its not as cold a climate.”

“Wonderful. Mass homicide should always be done in warm temperatures, I say.” At this, Kylo playfully swatted at her, leading her to (slightly less playfully) pinch the tight skin over his right hamstring.

“Ow! Rey!” he whined, getting an evil snicker out of the alleged last Jedi. He glared again before continuing, rubbing his thigh. “I also reverse designed the superweapon so the power it draws from a star allows it to create a supershield, one so strong that its impervious to any attack with any known or reasonably foreseeable technology. Even from a direct Starkiller hit. There’s no weapon, only a shield, because of this modification, but that’s the point. It’s a safe harbor, where politicians can govern without concern of being blown out of the sky, should Hux successfully mutiny or secede.” he pauses, before revealing the final secret to her. 

“It’s called _Mirrorbright_.”

The name tickles something at the back of Rey’s mind, a memory of some significance; one that’s not her own. She can’t quite place her finger on it though, it keeps slipping through before she can summon more than the fleeting feeling of something.

“And you’re revealing it on Cantonica.” she says instead.

“Yes.”

“Good. I’m coming with you.” she says, stretching out her legs. They feel mostly normal now, (well, other than feeling like she’d just ran a marathon with weights strapped around her ankles). 

“Rey-“ Kylo begins, but she stops him with a rather imperious wave of her hand. It’s a habit of his mother’s, he recognizes, one befitting his Scavenger Queen.

“Don’t you ‘Rey’ me. I want to be there, Kylo, in whatever capacity you’ll have me. I’m proud of you, I believe in you, and I meant what I said last night. If that means I scream from the rooftops that I’ve joined Kylo Ren, so be it. But I’ve made my decision.” Rey emphasizes the word “decision”, knowing it’ll remind him of his conversation with Kittara today. 

After an increasingly pregnant (okay, so pregnant that it gave birth and congrats, it’s twins!) pause, Kylo finally nods his assent, allowing Rey to sign with relief. She leans back against him, allowing him to play with the loose strands of her hair as he mulls something over in his head. She can feel that its something significant, something that scares him, but he keeps the exact content hidden from her. 

Finally, he speaks, voice uncharacteristically shaky as he does. “What if I asked you to come with me and stand by my side? Literally, that is?”

Rey pauses, mulling it over. Her earlier vision flashes in her mind, a shooting star across her memory. 

“You mean, as your… consort?” Rey tests out the word, not sure if it’s quite what he meant. His sudden stiffening (and no, not in that way) tells her she was wrong.

“Rey, kriff, no, not as my consort. No, as my… partner, I guess. More than an ally.”

Rey likes the sound of this much better, although a voice whispers to her that she wants the galaxy to know he’s hers, all hers, with no intention to share. She can’t help but sulk a bit at the fact that ‘partner’ won’t give her such rights at all. 

“All in good time, my sweet Scavenger Queen,” Kylo murmurs in her ear, reading her thoughts and oh, the feeling of hot breath on cold skin makes her shiver again. “But know that I am yours, as you are _mine_.” he breathes possessively, before lowering his lips to her neck and kissing her nape. Her skin prickles at his touch and she presses herself closer to him, relishing in the hard feeling of her chest against her back. She can’t get close enough, she thinks before realizing that the throw pillow’s still partially blocking her access. With a growl, she reaches around and tugs it out from between them, discarding it on the floor. Access now unimpeded, she pushes her hips back so her body’s flush with his. 

Kylo’s long, pale fingers wrap around her jaw, tilting her head back to sweep her into another fevered kiss. Rey can’t help but moan into it, the tight warmth in her stomach coiling around itself. 

Suddenly, he pulls away, eyes as wicked as his grin. 

“I’ve shown you mine, now you show me yours. Tell me about the vision.”

“Wait a second, aren’t we also supposed to talk about your dream meeting with Anakin? Your grandfather?” Rey huffed, cheeks bright.

“Not yet. It’s your turn,” Kylo emphasized each word with soft pecks laid on her deliciously heated cheeks. 

Teasing her is far too much fun. 

Besides, if they didn’t stop now, he’d never be able to regain _his_ focus. 

“I… I had a vision. Different from the one I saw before, when we touched hands,” Rey admits slowly. In fact, this one presented a starkly different future from what she’d previously seen on Ahch-To. The one of Ben Solo’s redemption, the one that led to her coming to his “rescue” on the _Supremacy_ , unbidden. In this new vision, clad in his typical black clothing, Kylo hardly looked redeemed, per se. 

But he also didn’t look like the haunted, wicked specter of Kylo Ren, Jedi-Killer. 

Rey knows visions aren’t promises; nothing is ever guaranteed. Perhaps their actions since the _Supremacy_ altered the future, she muses, causing this new prospect of a life together.

A life balanced.

“Hm,” Kylo breathes, hearing her thoughts as clearly as his own. “I always found it so curious that the Force showed us two contradicting visions of the future at the same time.”

They’d long ago exchanged memories of the alleged prophecies they’d both received that cold, rainy night. Kylo had huffed indignantly at the sight of him decked in traditional Jedi robes again, carrying the vaunted Skywalker saber (“Well, thank goodness you made it impossible for _that_ to happen,” he’d sniped.) Rey reacted almost violently to the image of her clad in black leather and lace, red saber in her hand as she stood next to Kylo on a battlefield, looking like gods of death as they gazed over a pile of fallen, faceless bodies. Perhaps she’d reacted in such a way because she’d been so tempted, so close to taking his hand, but she’d thrown him out of her mind for two whole days after that, blaming him for the Force’s vision. 

“This… felt different from the last one,” Rey admits, sucking her lower lip between her teeth. “It didn’t feel as… forced, if that makes sense. It felt more like the one I experienced when I touched the Skywalker saber for the first time. There was more detail, like I was actually there, not like I was dreaming.”

Rey closes her eyes, recalling the scene so she can share it with Kylo.

“We were together, like in the other one, but that was it. There were people everywhere, press, holorecorders. You were wearing the crown in your safe, but you still looked like you. All black otherwise, still keeping up with your image,” she teased, a small smile briefly appearing on her lips. “But despite everything, despite all those people, we felt… happy. It felt _right_.” 

Rey feels her smile stretching her lips as she relived the moment, and Kylo stares, wondering how close he could fly to his sun without burning up in her. Suddenly, he can see it all as clearly as she did: the crowds, her, resplendent in white and wearing her hair in a crown on her head, the Alderaanian tiara for its female royals. The air, the artificial gravity, the Force itself feels content, balanced, like it’s supposed to feel, he realizes. Looking out, over the crowd and past the droids, Kylo knows exactly where they are and his heart catches in his throat, tears burning at the corners of his eyes. 

Kylo Ren wants nothing more than this vision to come true, he thinks, and vows to do everything he can to ensure it. 

“Hey,” a voice, her voice brings him back to the present, a thumb gently brushing something wet on his face away. Rey’s face comes into focus, and Kylo blinks a few times, clearing the stinging from his eyes.

“You saw it?” she asks once she’s sure he’s back. Kylo only nods, jaw working as he ponders the meaning of this, this vision. She’s right, compared to the other vision, it feels much more natural, like the difference between imitation sugar and the real deal. 

To Kylo, this only solidifies his long-held hypothesis as to what they both saw that night, when they first touched hands. 

Snoke created those visions, he knows, a cruel trick to bring her to him. So he could have his apprentice kill his last hope, the last ray of light tempting him, leading him astray. A fatal miscalculation on his former Master’s part. Snoke hadn’t realized the depth of the Bond, of their connection, or of Kylo’s _compassion_ for her. 

‘Love,’ something deep in him whispers. ‘Even then, it was love.’

He doesn’t say this aloud, though. Doesn’t dare, not yet.

“I think,” Kylo says slowly, “I like this future the most.”

Rey nods, then pauses, working her lip between her teeth again. One day, Kylo will tell her how terribly distracting it is when she does that, but right now, he focuses on the troubled look in her eyes. 

“Talk to me,” he commands softly, almost gently. 

“I never thought I… Ruling. I’ve never wanted to be a leader, to be in charge. I’m not quite sure why anyone would. I don’t… I’m not cut out for that, not meant for that. I can barely read, I can only do math in terms of portions, I don’t know anything about culture or society or fuck, even how to talk properly, and yet, I… I always thought the call, the allure came from the dark in me. Some desire for power and control, something that would make me awful, horrible.”

Kylo knows she’s talking about the temptation of his previous offer, the one to rule by his side. He remembers the conflicted look on her face as he begged her, reminding him so much of his own.

“But now, this… this feels… I’m scared, scared I will be terrible, but not because I want power or control. I’m scared I’ll be insufficient. A Scavenger Queen, I mean, really,” she huffs, attempting to lighten her words and distract herself from her watering eyes. 

Kylo’s on her in a second, gathering her up in his arms, taking her face in his large palms. His calluses rub against her cheeks and it feels like home to Rey, his touch, his gaze, so tender, so sweet. 

“You will be glorious. Perfect. Fair and balanced, kind and compassionate. What a ruler should be, Rey, if that vision comes true, if its meant to be. Your background doesn’t make you lesser, it makes you greater. You will know what it means to starve, to struggle, to fight to survive every day. And because of that, I know you will use any power you’re given to make it easier for those like you.” He speaks with such conviction, such belief in her that it both shakes her like an earthquake and warms her like a fire. No one has ever believed in Rey before, not like Kylo believes in her and she wants to kiss him and run at the same time. 

She can’t let him down, she thinks, apprehension creasing her brow.

 _ **You won’t. No matter what, you won’t.**_ He promises, reading her like a book (damn Bond). 

And as if Kylo Ren knows exactly how to calm his girl, he shifts, pulling slightly away before opening his mouth. 

“My grandfather thinks I need to confront my family, make amends with them, in order to fully balance myself.” he sighs, although partially with relief when he sees Rey’s anxiety dissipate and turn into intrigue.

“Oh?” is all she says. 

“Yes,” he rumbles. “According to him, we’re too much alike and I’ll lose myself in you rather than deal with my past.”

Rey can’t help but giggle at this, the irony too great. “So, you finally found out that you _are_ just like the great Darth Vader,” she teases, before growing serious again. “What do you think, Kylo?”

Kylo breathes out slowly through his nose, raking his hand through his hair. “I think I’d much rather be distracted by you,” he admits, and then easily deflects the other throw pillow she tosses at him, batting it away. It ends up halfway across the room, falling on the black polished floor, and Kylo can’t resist the urge to retrieve it, returning it to its proper place on the couch.

Despite all her efforts to create chaos, he _will_ maintain order in their quarters, even if it kills him.

“I… I’m a lot more comfortable with it than I should be. I was right, my grandfather gets me, understands me. He certainly doesn’t treat me like the black sheep everyone else did. He’s been watching a long time. He told me he’d tried to reach out, save me, but Snoke was blocking him. Keeping him from me. All those times I thought I heard him was just another of Snoke’s manipulations,” Kylo’s tone turned dark, hate seeping into his voice. Rey squeezed his hand, stroking the back of it with the rough pad of her thumb, calming him. The move allowed him to break away from his anger, from Snoke, re-focusing on his grandfather’s words. 

“He apologized for not doing more,” Kylo whispered, almost haunted by Anakin’s absolution. This time, he breaks down, despite squeezing his eyes shut and clenching his fingers into his palms so hard that he’ll find bruises in the morning. At first, his cries escape noiselessly, but as soon as Rey’s arms are around him he’s sobbing, and they’re kneeling on the floor, her in his lap, holding him, soothing him. He buries his head in her shoulder, a black mop of hair tickling her face as she strokes his hair, his back. 

Eventually, his shoulders stop shaking and he’s able to pull himself back long enough to carry them both to their bed. They lay there, together, just holding each other, soothing each other with their presence, until exhaustion finally takes over and sleep claims them both. The Supreme Leader and his Scavenger Queen fall into a deep sleep, bodies still laced together, as if unable to let go even in their dreams. 

Neither of them hear their commlinks chiming, their slumber too powerful for the incessant pings to break through. Even though Kittara Ren sends multiple urgent messages, all under the subject line “Hux”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lilah's Brain: Li. You're gonna follow the outline and finish writing the lightsaber building scene today, right?
> 
> Me: Yup, yup, just like we talked about. 
> 
> Brain: Good, cause I'd hate for you to keep stalling and ... god dammit, are you writing smut instead?
> 
> Me: What? No. 
> 
> Brain: Then why are you writing about Kylo's penis?
> 
> Me: ... Oh, that? That's just Rey's nickname for her saber. Yeah. 
> 
> YOU KNOW WHAT THIS MEANS, KIDS! Chapter 21 is The Smuttening, Pt. 2, so batten down the hatches and prepareth to skip if you're not down for some Smutty McSmutness. 
> 
> Sorry not sorry.
> 
> Also, oh, hey, look at that reveal. Mirrorbright is Kylo's plan for galactic peace and can we talk about all the symbolism? I mean, I am laying it on thick here, people. And our Space Kids are actually pursuing a healthy relationship! I mean, as healthy as they get, but hey, maybe balancing the Force is like therapy.


	21. I Wanna L-L-Lick You From Your Head to Your Toes (a/k/a: The Smuttening, Pt. 2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _**Attention readers! The following chapter contains smut! As always, if you don't like smut, ain't old enough for smut, or aren't in a smut-appropriate location, please skip ahead to the next chapter. Continuing to read this chapter is assumption of the risk that you might read something obscene and are old enough to do so. Meaning I ain't liable if you do. Capeesh?** _

Rey wakes to simulated sunlight and Kylo’s breath hot and sticky on her forehead. They’re still tangled together, her legs tucked between his, his thick thigh draped over her hips. His arms keep her tucked tightly against him, and as Rey takes it all in, she’s struck by two things:

First, they’re nearly naked, apparently each shedding pieces of clothing during the night, judging by the haphazardly tossed boots and pieces of fabric around them. Kylo’s down to his briefs, which look like very tight shorts and leaving very little to Rey’s imagination. Rey’s also down to her underwear, and she briefly remembers waking in the night feeling fever hot and too confined, shucking off her dress and her bra before collapsing back into Kylo’s embrace. 

The second realization is that for the first time, Rey’s actually awake before Kylo. Her dark prince usually wakes before she does, his mind and body adhering to years of training as a Jedi and as a Jedi-killer. The moment gives Rey the rare opportunity to take in the beauty of a sleeping Ben Solo: the way his dark lashes rest against pale skin, his full lips parted slightly as he exhales, the cut of his jaw and the contrast of his black-brown hair against it. 

He is beautiful, she thinks appreciatively, angelic and innocent as he sleeps.

Less innocent is the slightly hard shaft pressing into Rey’s right hip, one of Kylo’s body parts that Rey’s only begun exploring. At first, she’s slightly horrified and hoping he’s not half-erect while in a dream-reunion with his family, but a gentle skimming of his mind reveals that Kylo’s long past REM sleep, his mind empty as space.

With that knowledge, a positively wicked idea blossoms in Rey’s mind. She’d seen, through her scavenging, more than her fair share of dirty holovids; enough to know of certain acts women performed on men. She’d heard men sing praises of women who did such things, through mostly eavesdropped conversations between oversexed Resistance pilots. Rose and Jessika even mentioned waking their lovers with the act, in high pitched giggles and with more innuendos than words. Back then, Rey’d briefly fantasized about doing it to Kylo, but never dwelled on it, thinking she’d never had the chance, but now…

Now, she’s staring opportunity in its one eye, so to speak.

Her mind made up, Rey wriggles down towards Kylo’s hips, careful not to wake him with her movements. In doing so, she can’t help but to slide her body against his cock, and by the time she’s eye-level with it, its gone from half-mast to almost full sail. 

‘Perfect,’ she thinks deviously, gently pulling the fly of Kylo’s underwear open to reveal her prize. Her mouth waters as his cock springs free, the head red and swollen. Before, she’d been too caught up in Kylo’s fingers buried inside of her to appreciate the size of the man, but now… now she’s able to fully take him in, and she briefly questions her plan, wondering how in the Force she’d ever be able to take all of him. 

Rey’s not the type to change her mind, however, especially not when she wants something, and she wants to know what he tastes like. That’s why she darts her pink tongue out to lap at the soft skin of his mushroom head, giving it a whisper-soft lick. It’s not enough, she thinks, growing bolder as she laps again, a little harder than before. He tastes like salt and musk, a divine concoction made just for her. 

Glancing up, she sees Kylo continuing to slumber peacefully, clueless as to what’s about to happen. She takes the opportunity to gently push him onto his back, giving her better access to his hard length. Rey takes it in her hand, again marveling at how big it looks with her fingers wrapped around it, before standing it up so she could lower her mouth over his head, sealing her lips around the top of his shaft. She swirled her tongue around the top experimentally and mentally cheers when he twitches in response, in her mouth, as if begging for more. He groans a little in his sleep, mouth falling open, and Rey flicks her tongue again and again. His scent fills her nostrils like this, overwhelming her so all she smells is Kylo and its intoxicating, making her rub her thighs together with desire.

She lowers her lips further down his shaft, taking just a bit more of him in. Rey knows there’s no way she can take all of him in her mouth, Kylo’s far too large for that. But she wants all she can stomach (so to speak), and tries stroking her tongue up along the underside of his cock. He seems to like this, twitching between her lips again. He’s hardening into durasteel thanks to her attentions, and Gods, does Rey love feeling that. Knowing that its her doing this to him, making his body react to her. She feels sexy, sensual; words Rey’s never thought about using to describe herself, and she loves it. 

Rey knows that during a blow job, one does not blow but sucks (thank you, drunken Poe Dameron), and, with an evil grin, tries it out for herself, her cheeks caving in as she does. It is this sensation, the feeling of hot and wet and soft suction around his dick that draws Kylo Ren out of his slumber. He opens his eyes to see one of his basest fantasies stretched out before him: Rey on all fours, tucked between his thighs with her lips wrapped around his cock. He looks downright huge with her tiny hand wrapped around the base of him, filling Kylo’s chest with masculine pride, and he can’t help but let a moan escape when she runs her tongue along him, hazel eyes wild, piercing into his. 

It’s the best wake up call Kylo’s ever had. Even better when he catches a glimpse of her bare tits, bouncing as she moves forward to take a little more of him in. The sensation of her wet lips on his burning hot skin makes his head roll back and his fingers twist in the sheets.

“Force, Rey,” he manages. She responds with swirling her tongue over him again and again, and Kylo wills his hips to stay still, to not thrust into her perfect little mouth.

No matter how much he wants to.

In fact, he thinks with more than a sliver of guilt, that this cannot be enjoyable for Rey. The position keeps all of her fun bits out of reach (although with some maneuvering he could get to her breasts), and he remembers overhearing one or two of the more promiscuous girls at the Academy complaining about the act. (Kittara, who’d been surprisingly tame as a padawan, scoffed at them later, saying she personally enjoyed the act if she liked the man enough.)

Not sure where Rey falls on this scale, Kylo grasps her shoulders, trying to gently move her away from him, not wanting her to continue anything unpleasant. Unfortunately (or fortunately) for him, their Bond reveals all, and Rey responds by only sucking harder, to the point where it was almost painful and Kylo’s eyes crossed with pleasure for a moment. Her mouth was so wet, so sweet, so warm and Gods, if her mouth feels this good he’ll never last when he finally thrusts inside of her. 

_Mmm, you better._ Rey purrs in his head, winking at him as she did. _Now, stop thinking about Kittara and focus, please._ There’s a note of possessiveness to her voice, even in his head, and Kylo’s all too happy to abandon really any and all thoughts as Rey starts bobbing her head up and down on his cock. She picks up where he likes her tongue best (running along the underside, flicking up and over his head), reassuring him as she worked that yes, she’s enjoying this, pleasuring him with her mouth and lips and that sinful little tongue. 

_Gods, you taste so good, Kylo_ , she half-moans as her tongue laps up the dribble of pre-cum leaking out of his tip. He hears the sheet ripping in his fist as he whimpers her name, trying to maintain some semblance of control

There are many things he wants to say, to do in return. Lift her up and turn her so he can taste her also, tell her how good she feels, command her to touch herself as she blows him. Rey’s testing every inch of his control, each suck, each lick eating away at it, making him feel too hot in his skin, his thigh muscles twitching as his orgasm nears.

Rey’s lost in her domination of him, feeding her own arousal with every moan and gasp she wrenches from him. She loves seeing him feral like this, mouth open and panting, black curls matted to his forehead with sweat as she brings him closer and closer to the edge. All her, all _hers_ , she thinks. 

Despite her enjoyment, she knows she can’t last much longer, not with his girth and her inexperience. Her jaw’s growing tight and she needs to feel him lose control. She knows she can’t get him to come without him letting go. 

She thinks back to one of their first shared Force dreams, one when the Bond was still too weak, the separation on Crait too fresh. They were both still peacocking at the time, so the fantasy she observed as a tawdry voyeur was her on her knees before him, lips wrapped around his cock as his hands twisted in her hair. She’d gasped then, hearing Dream Rey begging him to fuck her mouth like she deserved, ashamed of how it made her wet, made her want.

It’s her ticket to victory, Rey thinks, one that requires trust and her giving up a little control (but ultimately winning her domination in return). Decision made, she gently wraps her free hand around his wrist, bringing it to the back of her head, tucking his hand into her wild hair. She feels him tense, unsure of what she was asking, so she tilts her head up and makes sure to catch his eye. 

_Kylo. I want you to fuck my mouth._ She considers adding a ‘please’, but she’s not ready to beg for it yet, still wanting this to be her game. He responds by almost pulling away from her, shock ringing through the Bond as he wrestles with the urge to give in and his fear of hurting her. 

_I know you won’t hurt me,_ Rey purrs, stilling her head but sucking and swirling in the way he liked the most, making him curse above her.

“Fuck, Rey, you’re…” he trails off, still fighting to keep his control but she can see he’s losing, feeling his hips almost thrust up and then stopping himself. 

Sensing victory, Rey sends him her memory of his fantasy, of their dream: what she saw, how it made her wake up with her thighs gripping her pillow, made her want to touch herself, made her burn with desire. 

It is the fatal stroke for Kylo’s control, and with that, his willpower crumbles. His hands grip her hair, gently but firmly, and he begins to slowly, tentatively thrust his cock into her waiting mouth. She moans encouragingly in response, the noise vibrating around him and _Fuck_ , he can’t help but thrust more forcefully, going in a little deeper as she licks and sucks around him. He’s careful even now to not go too deep, not wanting to choke or harm his perfect, perfect girl as he fulfills her demand and fucks her mouth. 

It doesn’t take long for his hands to become fists in her hair as his body trembles, shaking, vision whiting out as his orgasm overtakes him. Its the hardest he’s ever come in his life, and he barely senses Rey lapping up his spend as he comes on her tongue. By the time he opens his eyes he’s barely able to move, using all her strength to pull her away. A fierce, possessive grin curling across her lips as she moves up towards him, leaning over and pecking his cheeks, his forehead. 

Despite his post-orgasm exhaustion, Kylo reaches to grab her by the back of the head and bring her down for a kiss. He can taste him on her lips, salty and bitter with a bit of tang, and he shouldn’t find that to be sexy as fuck and yet he does, the taste of him on her. 

“Good morning,” she chirps as she pulls away, taking advantage of his sapped strength while she can. She knows she’ll need to move quickly if she wants to delay his revenge, which she’s very excited for. However, she’s also heard his commlink pinging urgently and knows they can’t ignore the galaxy much longer. 

“Wait, come back,” he grasps as she slips out of his arms, sauntering as best she can to the ‘fresher. “I’m not done with you.”

“Oh, yes, you are,” Rey winks, and confusion descends upon his face. 

“But… Rey, I haven’t… I want to…” 

Rey’s once again stolen his words from him, another victory in her favor. She can’t help but giggle at his befuddled state as she reads his desire, his concern that she hasn’t been taken care of, his manly desire to satisfy _her_. 

As much as she wants that, she’d rather wait till they had more time. Like tonight.

“Nope. This morning was about you, Kylo. You’ll get me tonight, and I promise, you can do whatever you’d like then. In the meantime, you need to answer your comm. Someone’s going Wookieshit, and you might want to take care of that.” With that, Rey slid the door shut to the fresher, locking it to deter any attempted interruption. 

Back on the bed, Kylo flops back onto the pillows, part frustrated, part confused, but mostly still coming down from his orgasm. Using the Force, he calls his secured commlink to his palm. He’s still a little too jerky, and it flies into his waiting hand with a twack, causing him to drop it on the bed. Grimacing, he shakes his wounded hand out for a moment before picking up the comm, looking at the small notification screen.

“19 urgent messages from Kittara Ren” it reads, sending a surge of energy through Kylo’s veins.

“Shit,” he curses, before vaulting out of bed, punching his override code into the locked ‘fresher door.

“What the-“ Rey cries out, startled and dropping her bar of soap.

“Sorry, sweetheart, but we’ve got a problem heading our way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Way better than a lightsaber scene, right? Props to the Bard Ludicris, and his delightfully catchy song that I definitely got detention for not only dancing to, but rapping along with the lyrics at Prom. 
> 
> I'm also going to high-five myself for all the double entendres I snuck in here. I think I have a new record. 
> 
> Please note: due to the fact that I do not have a penis, I had to use my imagination when describing what Kylo was feeling. (My husband was no help, when asked, I got a "Good. Wait, why do you want to know this? Are you writing dirty things? I thought you said your fic was G-rated!") So if I got it wrong, people with penises, please let me know. 
> 
> As always, you guys are amazing and lovely. Thanks again for all of the support, love, shares, kudos, comments, and just being fantastic, lovely readers. I love you all, and hope you enjoyed this installment of Unscheduled Smut.


	22. So Much for the Afterglow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Kylo Ren finds himself asking, "What Would Leia Organa Do?" when it comes to handling one Armitage Hux.

Still far too conscious of water, Rey’s the first one out of the ‘fresher, and so the first one to find Kittara Ren waiting for them in their quarters. She’s been pacing, face paler than usual, and doesn’t even bother with a sarcastic quip or innuendo when Rey steps out, glad she’d brought her clothes into the ‘fresher with her. 

All signs point to a deeply shaken Kittara Ren, a disturbing concept on its own. 

Rey thinks quickly, gathering up a fresh set of Kylo’s clothes (thankfully having taken them off enough time to memorize every obnoxious layer he wears) and delivering them to him in the ‘fresher. There, she warns him of Kittara’s visit and rattled state, parting with a hissed “so hurry up!” 

So much for the afterglow. 

By the time Kylo emerges, Rey and Kittara both have cups of fresh caf in their hands, a third steaming cup waiting on Kylo’s polished coffee table. Kittara’s fist clenches her mug tightly, and as she brings it to her lips her sleeve falls back from her slender wrist, revealing a ring of blueish-purple bruises, freshly formed. It takes Rey only a second to realize its in the shape of a hand, Kylo even less. 

He grimaces, knowing there’s only one person on this ship brave (or foolish) enough to lay hands on Kittara Ren.

“Hux,” he growls, nodding towards her exposed flesh. Kittara doesn’t flinch, though she does tug her sleeve down in an attempt to cover the markings. 

“I take it you didn’t see my messages.”

“He’s dead.” It’s a promise growled between Kylo’s clenched teeth, rage simmering in his blood. There were certain lessons Han Solo impressed upon his son, ones that stuck with him even now, as Kylo Ren. 

Rule # 1: A man never laid hands on a woman in anger.*

(*War being the obvious exception to said rule.)

“Good, although, you should see him. He didn’t escape unscathed.” Kittara musters a grin, but it does nothing to slake the violence running through his body. 

“What happened?” Rey asks, setting her cup down on the table.

“I went to the Officers’ Lounge last night, planning on meeting one of my sources. Hux was there, already three sheets to the kriffing wind and watching me like a hawk from the second I arrived. I called off our meeting, not willing the risk of blowing my informant’s identity. I couldn’t play this one off like we’re fucking, it would be too far-fetched,” she shrugs, stirring her caf absent-mindedly. “I decide to leave, since I didn’t want to partake with Hux there. So, I play it off, leave, and then the fucker follows me back to my chambers.”

“I don’t think he meant to come off the way he did, I really don’t - and I hate giving that fuck the benefit of any doubt, Ky. But he grabbed me right before I got to my security pad and I fucking lost it. Force blasted him across the hall, punched him in the face before he convinced me to stop and I could get a good enough read on him. Fucker wanted to talk to me, didn’t think what it would look like to stalk a fucking lady home. Starts babbling that he knows something’s going on, you’re acting different, demanding I tell him what’s happening. You know, same old shit: he was Snoke’s real right hand, its his Order as much as yours, blah, blah, blah. He’s so drunk that he tips his hand and Hux fucking knows about _Mirrorbright_ , Kylo. He knows, and he’s pissed. Pissed that you took his weapon and made into an instrument for peace.”

“Naturally, I freak, so I use the Force, convince him to go back to his bunk, sleep it off, and begin panicking once I get inside my chambers. It doesn’t help when you don’t answer my comms at all, I actually came down here and checked on you both - thank fuck you were both fully clothed and sleeping, although you’re doing it wrong. You’re supposed to be naked.”

Kittara’s closing sentence, more a rambling train of thought than anything else, sounds so much like her normal self that Rey can’t help but chuckle in relief.

_She’s fine, Kylo, relax_ , she tells the increasingly tense bundle of black next to her. Kylo doesn’t respond, grinding his teeth as he curses himself for allowing such a deep sleep, not being there for Kittara when-

“Stop it. I can see it on your face, Kylo Ren. I can take care of myself, and you know it. Don’t beat yourself up for sleeping, for kriff’s sake.” Kittara’s honey eyes narrow, as if she’s insulted by the insinuation that she needed a protector. It’s a sentiment Rey completely understands. 

“Have you spoken to Hux this morning?” Rey asks, letting Kylo work it out in his head while she continued her investigation. 

“Hux seems to remember some of it, as he’s already commed me twice to apologize for coming across in an ‘untowards’ manner.” Kittara rolls her eyes. “I guess he still has that weird… admiration for my grandfather. Grandpas are a big deal around here,” she quips to Rey, smirking. 

“Grand Moff Tarkin?” Rey guesses. From what she knows of General Hux, it makes perfect sense that the pasty man would hold the man who destroyed Alderaan out of spite in a vaunted light. 

Kittara seems to bite her tongue for a moment, before nodding. “When Hux first figured out who I was, he decided we should be married to create a ‘fantastic lineage for the Order.’ I guess that’s the one thing I can thank Snoke for: he didn’t want Hux or Kylo’s loyalties distracted or compromised in any way.” The female Knight of Ren practically spits out Snoke’s name, demonstrating the depth of her gratitude. 

Rey absently wonders how many days Hux would survive in a marriage with Kittara Ren. Two? Four? 

“It is nice knowing even Armitage Fucking Hux won’t stoop to rape,” Kittara grumbles, apparently not realizing the irony of her words. For Rey, the comment stirs something in her gut, something dangerous and warning. 

There is a paramount difference between feminine instinct and the Force. The Force is something one is born with, allegedly thanks to one’s midichlorian count (a theory that Rey’s always found to be frankly ridiculous), and serves its own purposes. The Force will just as gladly lead its instruments into Hell or Heaven, depending on what will best bring it balance.

Feminine instinct, however, is an entirely different creature. It is one honed from millennia of survival, through natural selection and the will to ensure one’s genetic success. Instinct serves its master well, allowing one to protect your mate, your young, yourself. It unfurls, low and foreboding in your gut, with an acrid, bitter taste on the back of your tongue. It raises your hackles, both physically and metaphorically, setting off alarm bells in your brain, inducing it to release adrenaline into your veins. 

Rey survived for fifteen years on the hot sands of Jakku thanks to both the Force and feminine instinct. She knows ninety percent of it was thanks to the latter, learning quickly to pay attention to the creeping feeling in her intestines. It kept her out of the skin-sellers’ clutches, safe from drunken, angry men seeking only to take, allowing her to protect her soul and her body as a young virginal woman stuck on a man’s world.

Rey’s instinct tickles at her now, telling her just how wrong Kittara Ren is about Armitage Hux. She remembers something, an old conversation.

“I don’t think anything is below Hux,” she says softly. “He threatened Rose with it. On the _Supremacy_. I think he did it because Finn was there. To establish dominance, control, humiliate them both.”

Kittara freezes, and for the first time, Rey sees something like fear in trickling into her chocolate colored eyes. Both of the Knights of Ren before her seem resistant, as if wanting to disbelieve that Hux could do such a thing. And perhaps Rey’s wrong, the instinct in her gut being more about her fears of failure, her suspicious nature. Perhaps Hux wouldn’t dare touch Kittara Ren, because of her bloodline, her stature, her surname. 

“He was the most twisted of the three of us. Always has been.” Kylo muses darkly, and Rey sees what he means by that. Snoke chose his prey so well, especially when it came to his two protégées. He not only sought pure, untapped power (Ben Solo) or military genius (Armitage Hux), but made sure his victims were isolated, weakened, easy to manipulate, to control. Desperate for affection, approval, _love_ , even, as sick as it was. Ben Solo was a lost child, given a mantle too big to carry and forgotten in the shuffle between two people who loved him, but frankly had no business being parents. Add Luke’s constant hovering, his coldness, so easy to disappoint but impossible to please; and one helluva family secret (“ _Heir of Vader_ ,” she still hears Snoke purr), and it is easy to see why Ben was a target. 

Unlike Ben Solo, young Armitage Hux prayed to escape his father’s attentions. A bastard child, and raised to know it; his father also turned him into a vessel for his lifegoals, but with violence and fists. Armitage grew up at the mercy of a madman, and the glimpses Kylo Ren stole from Hux’s mind makes Rey’s stomach churn. How could he resist, then, a far kinder madman, one that only sometimes raised a hand against him, preferring to stroke the teen boy’s face like a mother would, should, had she not been so afraid too; telling him his father is just jealous of his potential, his genius. Snoke stoked the fires of Hux’s hate, driving him further into insanity, until the broken boy became a crueler version of his father. The former Supreme Leader even gave Hux the greatest gift, allowing him to exact his revenge by arranging for Brendol Hux’s painful, bloody death. 

Apparently, patricide is a gods-damned promotional tool in the First Order. 

Where killing Han Solo only split Kylo’s soul, it hardened Hux’s. 

The rabid cur, the madman, already twisted beyond belief before Snoke got to him. 

Snoke’s seduction of the boys feels almost intimate, borderline sexual in a way that makes bile burn Rey’s esophagus. It reminds her of how skin-sellers targeted the almost-women girls of Jakku. They struck when they were young, bodies still changing, hormones unstable and not long after their first blood. Always at the end of the hottest season, just after Ri’la’s breath retreated, when stockpiles were at their lowest and people at their most desperate. They’d coo promises and compliments, all “Sweetheart” and “beautiful” and promises, anything to get impressionable, starved, unloved young girls to follow them away from the safety of their huts, their village, the others. 

Rey shivers, and Kylo wraps a concerned arm around her shoulders. Her revelations, though already known to him, still triggers that sick, oily feeling in his brain he’d long associated with Snoke.

Like he’s still there. 

With a grimace, Kylo pushes it back, imaging the light, sunlight, harsh and bright, searing across it and forcing a hasty retreat from the slick shadows. It works, meaning Ahsoka’s exercises worked, and its a small victory for which he has no time to celebrate. 

Hux. 

“I want to kill him. I want him dead,” Kittara’s voice drips black, rage and hate boiling close to the surface. It surprises him, always, when the darkness singing in her veins takes over; after all, she’d always been a little closer to gray. “He’s a threat, one that’s growing every day, but moving now…”

She doesn’t need to finish her sentence. They all know its too soon, the danger the imbalance, the seeming rashness, will bring. _Especially_ with the upcoming summit, Kylo’s planned reveal. They’ll need Hux’s cooperation (even if it’s faked) to prevent any real uprising in the ranks. 

Still, he _touched_ Kittara. Threatened her. While he might claim he hadn’t meant it to be a sexual one, it’s cause enough for alarm. 

Two fingers covered in black leather pinch the top of Kylo’s nose, eyes squeezing shut as he considered all the possible actions and consequences thereof. Conspiring to bring order and balance to the galaxy should not be this hard. 

Something whispers at him, from the back of his mind, but it’s neither oily nor blackened. It feels like an old friend, someone familiar, not his grandfather, but close (if that makes sense). 

‘You’re a Naberrie, an Organa,’ it reminds him, ‘think like one.’

Kylo’s brain goes alight, the spark catching on some timber. His mother. Leia Organa. Even he has to admit her political brilliance, her prowess for scheming. People always thought Han Solo was the gambler in the house, but they were wrong. Leia was the one who played the odds, always riding out a win in the end, even against his notorious smuggler father. In fact, the heap of junk known as the _Millennium Falcon_ actually belonged to his mother since Ben was twelve. It was a little known fact, one kept quiet mostly for the sake of Han’s reputation, especially given the circumstances of the exchange. 

Leia hadn’t simply bought or cajoled Han to give her the Falcon; no. Princess Leia Organa, Senator of Chandrila, Representative of New Alderaan and Hero of the Rebellion, was no fool. No, she _won_ the _Millennium Falcon_ from Han Solo in a gambler’s bet, proving history loves irony. 

It was one night on the aforementioned ship, when the family was gathered all together. Leia’d gotten Han drunk off whiskey whilst playing sabacc with him and Chewie, keeping Ben close as they played. 

“Watch,” she’d instructed him earlier in the night. “Watch and you’ll see how an Organa wins.”

And he did, watching as Leia pretended to drink as much as Han, making sure she always stayed slightly behind him in the winnings, never showing her hand. Not until she somehow goaded Han, as drunk as a Hutt, to put ownership of the gods-damned _Falcon_ on the table. 

“If you win, you can take off for as long as you want and I won’t complain,” she’d purred at him, and to this day Ben Solo can’t help but wonder if she’d strung the Force around her words, luring him in like a fish. “But if I win, I get the _Falcon_. And I get to call the shots about when and where you fly her.”

Chewie, usually quick to caution Han Solo from entering a stupid bet, was uncharacteristically silent as Han chewed it over. Perhaps the old Wookie didn’t believe Senator Leia Organa could beat her husband at his own game. 

More likely, Chewie had learned (as they all did) not to fuck with his mother, and wisely decided to stay out of it. There were life-debts, and then there was the Huttslayer, and Chewie knew his limits. 

“Prepare to lose, Princess,” Han’d slurred, reaching into his front pocket and tossing a title chip onto the table. 

Forty-three standard seconds later, Leia Organa was the proud new owner of the _Millennium Falcon_. (Or she was until her husband stole it back from her six standard years later, where it was then promptly stolen from _him._ ) Kylo will never forget the dumb-founded look on his father’s face, mouth hanging open so wide you could land a Star Destroyer in it. “Y-you cheated! You used the Force, didn’t you?” he’d sputtered, and Leia narrowed her eyes. 

“I won fair and square, you kriffing nerfherder. Don’t be such a baby because your wife beat you at your own damn game.”

“That’s it,” Kylo mumbles, unaware he’s speaking aloud. “We beat him at his own game.”

Both women look at him like he’s speaking in tongues, caught off guard by Kylo’s words and (moderately) deranged grin. Neither of them dare say anything, patiently waiting for Kylo to continue. 

“Here’s the plan,” he begins, before laying it all out before them. Once it’s all out there, he leans back with a smug smile, crossing his arms behind his head. The pose makes him look more Solo than Organa, but even his father’s ghost can’t dampen his mood.

“This is… madness, absolute madness,” Kittara shakes her head, not yet able to voice her begrudging approval for the plan. 

“It is,” Rey agrees, pink lips set straight, “but it’s just crazy enough to work.”

————————————

Two standard hours later, Terror and Alpha escort an unarmed General Hux into Kylo Ren’s throne room. The man does his best to keep a straight face, despite the fact that his right eye twitches every time his eyes saw Kylo Ren sitting on his black throne. However, animosity won’t save his neck, not with a positively murderous Kittara Ren standing next to him, saber strapped to her belt, as well as three pistols and a dart gun.

Hux’d hoped to get this out of the way earlier - much earlier, in fact. It was Kittara’s idea to delay the meeting, forcing the General to steep in his anxiety while buying Rey just enough time to finish her saber. After he’d undergone a very thorough patdown by Terror, who’d somehow even found the knife Hux concealed in his boot heel, and removed of any form of weaponry, Hux was finally granted an audience in front of his current master. 

The tactic paid off. Somehow, Hux’s already pale skin had gone from “hasn’t seen the sun in a decade” to “absolutely vampiric”, and the giant, purpling bruise on his chin isn’t helping. 

Hux gulps, then began his carefully rehearsed speech. “Supreme Leader, I come to you because I owe you an apology, as well as Kittara Ren. I am sure she’s informed you as to the events of last night, wherein I behaved in a manner unbecoming of a General of the First Order.”

Hux braced himself, waiting for the pain, the choking, the fury of Kylo Ren to rain down upon him. He’d counted on Kittara Ren going straight to Ren and telling him everything, making the delay being summoned to the throne room both alarming and revealing. He’d prepared himself for all of the potential punishments, including death, for his lecherous behavior.

Well, not all of them.

He certainly hadn’t prepared for Kylo Ren, Kylo Motherfucking Ren, to chuckle (although it came out slightly growled) and wave his hand dismissively.

“General Hux. Kittara Ren has already forgiven you for your drunken foolishness, and has certainly reminded you of her strength.” For all his supposed self-control, Hux actually flinches at the reminder, his jaw throbbing with Kylo’s words. His eyes flit to Kittara, smirking as she stands, watching his every move like a predator stalking her prey. 

“While I am disappointed at your frankly inappropriate behavior, I recognize the amount of stress you’ve been under, Hux. It’s no excuse, certainly. To be clear, should I hear of you touching Kittara Ren or any other woman in such a manner, you’ll pay with your life. Understood?”

Hux looks like he can’t believe his good fortune, and quickly snaps a salute with a “Yes, Supreme Leader!” before turning to leave. It’s as if he’s hoping to flee before Kylo changes his mind, demonstrating that if anything, Hux still fears the man as much as he loathes him.

‘Good,’ Kylo thinks darkly. 

“General Hux, I don’t believe I dismissed you,” Kylo states, his words freezing Hux mid-step. His knee almost buckles as he does, revealing the extent of Kittara’s wrath.

Slowly, the General turns back around, gulping again. His eyes are icy spears of suspicion, his skin now Hoth-white. 

“Please, have a seat,” Kylo’s almost cooing, sounding too much like his mother as she sprung her trap. He flicks a spare chair over with the Force, wood scraping across the polished floor. Hux winces, always unnerved by the mystical nature of the Force and its powers.

Just the reaction Kylo wanted, he thinks as he watches Hux limp over to it. 

“General Hux, I know our working relationship has been strained over the past few years. I’m quite aware that my ascension has only added to this tension, due to your jealousy towards me as Snoke’s chosen heir.”

“I’m not- You were _not_ \- “ Hux manages to choke out before Kylo cuts him off.

“Its only understandable, Hux. I would feel the same way too, and after all, isn’t this what Snoke wanted? Isn’t that why he made sure to turn us against each other from the start?”

“The Supreme Leader-“ Hux growls, but stops when Kittara’s hand moves menacingly towards her saber.

“The Supreme Leader,” she sneers, “is right in front of you.”

“Kittara,” Kylo chides, sounding almost amused. Kittara doesn’t move her hand, but her ruby lips press together. Satisfied, the dark figure turns back to the General before him. “I asked you a question, Hux.”

“Yes, Supreme Leader,” the answer is almost spat, but Hux knows the truth within and his eyes almost hollow for a moment. Its enough of a crack to allow Kittara Ren to slip past his shields, settling into his mind. 

“I’ve been unfair, Hux. Perhaps you would’ve been just as unfair, or perhaps worse, but Kittara Ren’s convinced me to give you a chance.”

Hux’s jaw actually drops at this, as if completely unhinged by the idea that Kittara Ren just saved his neck. His eyes dart towards the redheaded counselor, finding her very conspicuously examining her black manicure. 

“So, thanks to my Counsel, I’d like to explain to you some recent developments and alliances I’ve been able to procure, as well as what I intend to do next.” Kylo pauses, keeping the taste of bile out of his throat as he musters the strength to say the next words. “After all, you’ve proven your military capabilities and prowess time and time again. These skills will be crucial to the Order’s success in the next few months.”

“And in return?” Hux’s eyes glitter with greed, seeing a beautiful opportunity presenting itself before his eyes. ‘Kylo Ren and his stupid sense of _compassion_ ,’ he thinks gleefully. 

Head still downturned, Kittara Ren smiles. Without moving her fingers, something rustles past Kylo’s left ear, the slightest disturbance in the Force. He shifts forward, signaling his response. 

“In return, you’ll truly serve in the upper echelons, alongside my counsel, as a Grand Marshal.” It’s cruel, Kylo knows, dangling the esteemed rank in front of Hux like Snoke did, toying with his need for approval, for status, anything to erase the moniker of “Brendol’s bastard”. It feels gritty and wrong, like eating uncooked mynock, and Kylo wrestles to keep his eyes passive. 

He should’ve kept his fucking mask. 

As suspicious as Hux is, he can’t resist the bait before him. Like that, he’s hooked, and now all Kylo has to do is reel him in. 

“What’s the plan, then, Supreme Leader? I need to know what I’m agreeing to,” Hux tries to look anything other than interested but fails in doing so, smugness radiating off him like gamma rays and Kylo has to remind himself not to kill Hux.

_Not yet, love._ Rey whispers from her hiding spot, and calm ripples towards him. It works, smothering the smoldering rage buried inside him, re-centering his mind. 

_**Just remember, I’m doing this to impress Hux. It’s not the plan,**_ he reminds her, almost anxiously if it wasn’t for the blanket of warm she’d metaphorically draped around him. 

_I trust you_ , she promises, and those three words give Kylo the push he needs to continue his act. 

He lays out his plans for establishing a new Imperial Senate, by way of _Mirrorbright_ , but with a sinister spin on all of them now; all for Hux’s benefit. After all, just revealing everything outright is hardly an Organa move - ‘Only show as much leg as you need,’ a wise Senator once quipped. (Further, that would send Hux straight to coup mode, Grand Marshal or not. The man abhors democracy as much as he hates sunlight and chocolate cake, two things that prove he cannot be redeemed.) 

Instead, Kylo makes it sound like some evil plan to make the people only think they have control, stemming all resistance (as well as support for the Resistance) while the Order pulls the strings and refills its coffers (which Hux and Snoke decimated). Its almost laughable how far from the truth it all is. Kylo has no intention, no desire to become a despot; partially because it strikes him as _wrong_ , but mostly because despotism takes a Hell of a lot of work and time and politicking. 

Kylo can think of much better uses of his time and attention. Specifically, Rey underneath him, naked and begging for his touch.

He swears he hears the slightest gasp from Rey’s hidden alcove. Luckily, he’s the only one who does. Hux actually looks _impressed_ at Kylo’s nefarious scheme, a demented grin twisting his lips. 

“I must say, Supreme Leader, Counsel, your plan seems ingenious. It’s almost Palpatinian, even.” Hux’s words drip saccharine, although he’s being honest. Kylo resists the urge to scream that it all sounds Palpatinian because that’s exactly who they stole the idea from, but he’s got to get through the remainder of this meeting without losing it if they want to succeed at all. 

All he needs is a couple months, and by then, it won’t even matter what Hux thinks because Kylo will be shooting him out of an airlock. Decapitating him in the midst of one of his pretentious rants. Disemboweling him with a fingernail file-

Wait. That last one wasn’t _his_ homicidal fantasy, although he’ll give Kittara points for creativity. 

“I’m in,” Hux finishes, making Kylo realize he’d tuned out half of one of those pompous speeches. 

_You missed nothing important. Other than my concern that I’ve just watched a man self-fellaciate._

_**You- you’re hanging around Kittara too much.**_ Kylo shudders, wanting that mental image out of his head _now_. He re-focuses, setting the second step in play. 

“Good. Then, Grand Marshal, I have even more excellent news to help us implement this new government.”

“Oh?” Hux leans forward, as he can read the anticipation on Kylo’s face. 

“Yes.” It’s a struggle to stay neutral again, anxiety rushing through the Supreme Leader’s veins to the point where he’s locking his knees to keep them from twitching. “I don’t know if you’ve heard the news that the Resistance lost their Jedi.”

“She’s dead?” Hux is far too excited about the prospect, and even the thought of Rey’s death makes his head spin.

The gentlest tug on the Bond keeps him in place, a soft reminder that she’s alive and well, only thirty feet away. 

“Better than that,” he says with a forced casualness that convinces no one. “She’s left the Resistance. Defected. Realized the flaws and failures of the Jedi and the New Republic, of the Resistance and has turned away from the Light.”

On cue, Rey slips out of the unlit alcove where she’d concealed herself till this moment. Kittara, always going on about “visual cues” and “looking the part”, clothed Rey to maximize her entrance. Her dress was still mostly the same, except with a few key changes. Dark aubergine, the color of royalty, replaced the smoky gray hues she’d favored as of late. The lace sleeves and top connecting the sweetheart neckline to her neck was also gone, the shimmersilk continuing up to her neck in a halter top style. It leaves her slender shoulders and half of her clavicles exposed, and Kylo aches to kiss along that tender ridgeline. Her armbands are back, matching in color and made of crushed velvet, adding to the regal air the outfit gives her. Rey plays into it, raising her chin like a haughty queen ( _ **soon, my love**_ , he promises), the single tawny braid down her back brushing against exposed skin as she did. She is a sight to behold, the fallen Jedi, his wicked Empress, and it stirs a heady wave of lust at the base of Kylo’s spine.

Hux’s eyes are wide with a mixture of horror, fury and bewilderment. His mouth hangs open again, but his skin, oh, it’s gone from white to red to purple as he sputters angrily, spittle flying out of his mouth. 

“What the fuck is _she_ doing here, Ren?” he screams, stabbing his index finger in Rey’s direction. It’s all Kylo Ren can do to keep himself from popping Armitage Hux’s obnoxious, smarmy head off his neck with the Force. 

“Now, now, Armitage,” he chides, watching Kittara’s finger place itself on her saber’s activation button. “Is that any way to speak to a guest?”

“A guest? A GUEST?!?” Hux’s voice takes on a strangled pitch, even though he’s not being Force-choked at the moment. “She killed Snoke! Our Leader, Ren, are you mad-“

“She’s of no threat to me.”

“Didn’t she knock you unconscious in Snoke’s throne room and take down the entire Praetorian Guard?” 

“Actually, I deflected one of Snoke’s Force hits onto Kylo, so technically, Snoke knocked him out.” Rey chirps the lie far too cheerfully, as if enjoying watching Hux turn fifty shades of scarlet.

“Ren, you’ve got to be kidding-“

“Supreme Leader,” Kittara cut in through gritted teeth. 

“Fine! Supreme Leader, you’ve got to be kidding me! That girl is a menace and surely a Resistance plant! Don’t let your strange… infatuation with her blind you!” One of the fun things about Hux is that when he’s really, truly thrown for a loop, he tends to reveal far too much. Such as his knowledge of Kylo’s obsession with the alleged last Jedi.

There’s a million things Kylo wants to snap back, but he is an Organa, dammit, and he wills himself to -

“She - this… _Scavenger_ -“ Hux spits out and fuck being an Organa, they’ve always had a temper anyways. Kylo’s seeing red and Hux’s suddenly on his knees, clutching at the invisible hands wrapped around his throat.

“You shall address her as the Lady Rey for the time being, and you shall do so with respect, Grand Marshal. Or should I send you back to General? Obviously your strategic brilliance isn’t what I thought it was, if you cannot see how important Lady Rey’s defection is for the Order.”

There’s a high pitched whine that sounds like surrender, and Kylo releases the vice around Hux’s throat. Hux pitches forward onto all fours, gasping as his breath returned. 

Kylo waits for Hux to return to standing, resettling himself on the throne. For this to work, he needs Hux to take just enough rope to hang himself, Rey being that rope. If Hux capitulates now, pretending to at least tolerate Rey, it means the plan is working. 

If not… 

Well, if not they’d have to go to Plan B, and Kylo’s pretty sure Kittara’s got a nail file in her pocket. 

Hux finally gets to his feet, brushing himself off and straightening his cap. It’s a tell, much like that of a Sabacc player, one that Kylo finds immensely reassuring. 

“My apologies, Supreme Leader. I mean no insult towards the Lady,” his mouth twists when calling her ‘Lady’, as if the word itself tastes sour on his tongue, “I just would hate to see something untimely happen to you, given that she’s tricked you before and bested you in battle. Twice.”

It’s a surrender wrapped in barbed wire, the only kind Hux gives, and Kylo can’t help but let a slight, crooked smirk escape his lips for the briefest second. 

‘I have you now,’ he thinks darkly. 

“Did she?” is all he says aloud, playing into the doubt that’s always pricked at the back of Hux’s mind. He’ll never find evidence, of course. Kylo made sure all the security feeds from the _Supremacy’s_ elevator and Snoke’s throne room were destroyed, along with any copies (and anyone in possession thereof). But Hux never believed Kylo’s flimsy tale about Rey overpowering him, Snoke and eight Praetorian guards. 

Not that he could blame him. It was a pretty shitty cover story. 

“Either way, Grand Marshal, you can rest assured that Kittara Ren’s searched the Lady Rey’s mind and found no plot, no plan. Her desires are genuine, and she’s come to join us in our mission of restoring order to the galaxy.”

“Of course, Supreme Leader. If you and your counsel trust her, as shall I.” Hux’s smile is all teeth and bad acting, convincing no one. 

“Very good, Grand Marshal. After all, she will be quite convincing at the Cantonica Summit. I hope you’ll agree to join us there.”

Hux’s eyes flicker with both disgust and excitement, the man lived for ridiculous social affairs and photo ops. “I would be honored,” he practically purrs, and Kylo’s afraid he’ll lose it at any second.

“Excellent. Now, if you don’t mind, I must excuse us for some training - I can’t imagine you’d like to join us.”

“I’d hardly be of use, Sir.” Hux at least has the good sense to know not to venture into a room where all three of them wield lightsabers and an accident would be far too tempting. 

“Indeed,” Kylo can’t help the swipe. He never promised to make Hux his bestie (or whatever kids called it these days). “If you would, General, I’d appreciate you compiling a list of planets and systems with the most resources for us to target at Cantonica. Keeping our military strong is vital to the plan.” 

“My pleasure,” Hux’s mouth says, but his eyes tell a different story. With a less than graceful spin, the newly-minted Grand Marshal turns and makes his way back out of the throne room, nervously glancing over his shoulder more than once. Once the antechamber doors hiss shut, the ginger-haired man picks up his pace, walking as quickly as he dared towards his shuttle. He has news to share; big, important news. 

_This_ changes everything, he thinks, whistling as he strides up his boarding ramp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that was slightly cruel of me. But oh, gods, the scene is written and I have written not one, not two, but three chapters today thanks to finally getting through this chapter and doing the whole Hux confrontation thing. It feels *so* good to finally have this monster of a scene out of the way, and to say "fuckit" to the second part of the "Rey builds a lightsaber" scene since it was ultimately pointless and repetitive.
> 
> I'm back, baby. YEAH. 
> 
> Now get ready, cause these next couple chapters are gonna punch you in the feels, but in like, a warm, friendly shanking way, not your usual shanking. But I promise they're totally worth it, please don't kill me or stop commenting. I live for that shit, because I'm needy and desire validation. 
> 
> Xoxo.


	23. Across the Stars

The rest of the day is a whirlwind of preparations. As a security measure, Kylo, Kittara and Rey move up their departure for _Mirrorbright_ to that night, meaning there’s a flurry of activity from the attendants, guard and the political advisors surrounding Kylo and Kittara, leaving Rey to practice with her saber for hours on end in the training room. 

She stops when she runs out of training droids.

Rey can’t help but feel slightly disappointed about the shift in plans, even though she knows it makes sense. _Mirrorbright_ , after all, is a standard day away from being fully operational, and all the Stormtroopers there have been corrupted, meaning their loyalty lies with Kylo Ren and not Hux. Rey also knows Kylo’ll sleep better knowing they’re at an undisclosed location, far from Hux’s reach, on the off-chance he moves his plans up as a reaction to Kylo’s revelations. 

But going to _Mirrorbright_ tonight means they’re flying in close quarters, eliminating the possibility of Kylo’s promised payback for this morning. Rey’d almost protested, till Alpha announced he’d detected someone tampering with Kylo’s beloved TIE _Silencer_ , finding a killswitch on it not unlike the one on the _Ackbar_. Rey might be horny, yes, but no orgasm is worth Kylo’s safety, and so she’d instead channeled her frustration into slaughtering the training droids.

In between packing, dismembering semi-sentient metal robots, and everything else, Kylo and Rey managed to squeeze in a brief voice-comm with Ahsoka, who was delighted to hear about Rey’s saber. She was decidedly less excited to hear that Kylo and Rey actually mediated, commenting, “let me know when you guys are able to do it in the same room, ok?”

It’d taken the wind out of Rey’s sails, especially when Kylo chuckled an “I told you so”. 

Then they’d had to dine with Grand Marshal Hux (ugh), putting Rey past her Hux interaction limits for today. The point was to not only make the _Mirrorbright_ trip seem planned, but to also push Hux just a little more with some deliberately false information. Kylo’d theorized that Hux wouldn’t dare attack any of them unless they were alone due to their Force powers. Rather than demand Kittara Ren move into their chambers (thus spectacularly cock-blocking himself), Kylo decided to convince Hux that some of the Troopers were Force-sensitive (statistically highly probable), including Terror. 

Oh, and that Kylo was going to train the Force-sensitive Troopers as a hyper-loyal paramilitary faction. 

Hux’s eye twitched twenty-seven times during dinner, according to Rey’s count. Kittara had twenty-nine, but that’s because she counted all the twitches separately when Terror allegedly lifted a fork with the Force (really, it was Rey using the one skill Luke Skywalker taught her, but apparently she wasn’t the only one that thought the Force was just lifting inanimate objects with your mind). 

Needless to say, by the time Rey boards The _Enforcer_ , Kylo’s sleek, long-range corvette meant for incognito travel, she is absolutely _done_ with today. 

She’s tired, her feet hurt from training, she had a wicked knot in her shoulder that she couldn’t stretch out, the braid felt like it was pulling her head from her scalp, and she’s starving, having been too ashamed of her table manners to eat in front of Hux. 

Kylo, bless him, senses all this and more through their Bond and leads her straight to their cabin after take-off. They’re nowhere near as spacious as the rooms on the _Finalizer_ , but bigger than the _Ackbar’s_ or the _Falcon’s_ captain’s quarters. Someone’s taken great care to lay her nightclothes out on her bed (probably Omega, such a sweetheart), and Kittara brings her a bowl of steaming hot noodle soup once she’s decent.

“Next time, you and I can eat ahead of time. That way we don’t offend anyone’s ‘delicate principles’ by eating like women,” Kittara grins, and Rey laughs, feeling the stress in her stomach escape with each heave of her chest. 

“Are you sure it’s okay I’m going to bed now? Shouldn’t I be out there with you and Kylo?” she asks, gesturing towards the main sitting area of the ship. Guilt gnaws at her chest, after all, wasn’t she just promising Kylo she was with him all the way last night?

“Why, so you can fall asleep in my caf?” Kittara quips, then sighs. “Rey, don’t feel guilty. You’ve gone through a lot these last couple days. Hell, you built a lightsaber in thirty-six hours. That’s unheard of! You need to rest, regain your strength or else you’ll be no good to any of us.” her chiding is almost motherly, and Rey falls asleep wondering how many other people Kittara’s nursed back to health. 

————————————

Anakin hadn’t been quite ready to give up on his time alone with his grandson, as Kylo spent the second night catching up with his grandfather in his sleep. The second night allows them to learn that they both are incredibly skilled pilots (something Kylo long thought he’d only gotten from his father) and marksmen; both have an entirely rational fear of lava, given their family history; and that Anakin Skywalker still derides a Republican governing style as “far too idealistic to ever succeed. I’m not advocating for a dictatorship, Ben, but there’s something to be said for the Rule of Law and not just enforcing it, but ensuring it can’t be corrupted like it always is when a Republic’s in charge.”

Kylo vented to his grandfather about the First Order (specifically, Hux); gushing proudly over Rey’s almost-completed saberstaff; and spent about three standard hours geeking out with him over the new additions he’s making to his TIE _Silencer_. (Anakin approves of all of them.) They even talk about the Force: about how when you die, you become a part of the Force even if you’re not skilled in it (after all, the Force creates and is created by all living things); about how speaking in Sith both makes their tongues feel black and oily. About how Skywalkers feel the call for balance in a far more compelling manner than many other Force-users.

Which is why on Night #3, after collapsing into bed next to an out-cold Rey, Kylo’s surprised to awaken within his dream not on Tattooine, but in a beautiful, golden meadow baked in rays of sunbeams. 

For a second, he thinks his grandfather has managed to create a dreamscape infused with Rey’s essence.

“Hardly, although that’s incredibly romantic of you, Ben,” Anakin half-rolls his eyes but also smiles knowingly at his grandson. (They’re both quite the poets, Kylo learned. Anakin confessed to sending Padmé snippets of prose while they were separated, something Kylo deeply appreciates). 

“Is this a real place, then?” Kylo’s excitement manages to slip into his voice, despite all his efforts to sound calm. He _must_ bring Rey here, he thinks. 

“Indeed, it is. Welcome to Naboo, Ben.” A new voice, light and feminine, rings out from behind him and he stills, caught off guard. Her voice is higher than Rey’s, and with a Republican accent. Familiar. He’s heard it before, reminding him of his political heritage just this morning. 

One glance at his grandfather confirms whom the voice belongs to. The blond-haired man is looking at the source of the voice behind him like a priest worshipping his goddess.

When Kylo Ren turns to face his grandmother, he can’t help but think that Anakin’s younger self was right, and that she is most definitely an angel. Bathed in sunlight, she gazes upon her grandson with warm chocolate eyes and a beaming smile. She’s surprisingly petite, not as short as Leia but still shorter than Rey, and with slender, elegant features. Long brown hair tumbles down her back, worn loose with only a tiny sliver of a golden circlet donning her head. She’s wearing a backless gown that reveals her shoulders (a distraction technique, Kylo gathers, as Anakin’s eyes are glued to his wife now; much like his were to Rey’s). The way Padmé moves is in the guided, purposeful grace of a royal, a start contrast to Anakin’s more powerful strut. 

He suddenly sees where so many of his mother’s (and admittedly, some of his own) features come from.

“Grandmother,” he breathes, finally, as she makes her way towards him. Her smile is as bright as the sun’s, and she smells like lavender as she envelops his oversize frame in a tight, loving hug.

“Oh, my Ben. My sweet little Ben, how you’ve grown,” she coos, and it feels… right. Everything about Padmé Naberrie Amidala, the grandmother he’s never known, the mysterious wife of Darth Vader, feels warm and loving and safe, like a presence he hasn’t felt in years. 

Kylo’s taken back to his life as Ben Solo, a gangly, sniffling boy who awoke sobbing in the night, terrified from Snoke-inflicted nightmares. When his mother was home and not traveling, she seemed to always know when he’d wake up terrorized (even once he learned not to scream), and would come tuck him into his arms, singing lullabies from her childhood. 

But there was another presence, undoubtedly kind and loving and female, that would come to soothe his tortured soul when his mother was traveling. He could never see her, but he could feel the warmth of her hug and the love in her forehead kiss as she stroked his back and radiated nothing but love and safety. He remembered she smelled like lavender, and would hoard dried stems of the flower to tuck under his pillow like a talisman to ward off his nightmares.

Once, Kylo briefly entertained that the mystery angel was Rey, until he realized that she wasn’t even born when these visits would happen. 

“It was you,” he says, understanding and amazement coloring his words.

“Of course, my sweet princeling,” she swipes back an errant black curl from his face, just like she used to. 

“How?” is all the Supreme Leader can manage, because as matriarch, Padmé Amidala takes the power of speech away from all of the Skywalker men. 

“You mean, since I’m not gifted in the Force like the rest of you? How do you think?” she grins, nodding in Anakin’s direction. 

“I told you, I did what I could,” Anakin says softly, sadly. Kylo understands what he meant now. Snoke blocked Anakin from Kylo, so Anakin sent his wife, the one person who soothed his own ruptured soul. It’d worked, at least for while, till the white light stopped appearing, more evidence of the light forsaking him, Snoke taunted. 

“No. He finally figured it out,” Padmé’s face crinkles with despair as she brushes an errant curl out of Kylo’s eyes. It feels so much like his mother, like Leia, that he unconsciously leans into it. “He kept me from you too. It was like there was a soundproof wall around you, keeping you trapped, alone. I wanted nothing more than to just hold you, my sweet boy,” and Padmé’s arms tighten around him like she’s afraid she’ll be torn away again. 

“I’m so proud of you,” she whispers and it’s as soul-shattering as when his grandfather said it. Weeping, Kylo’s knees give way and his grandmother lowers them both to the ground, letting him cry into her shoulder. She rubs his back and shushes him softly, but there’s no teasing comments like the rest of the Skywalker-Solos. Padmé Amidala’s a different beast, the soft matriarch that was always missing. 

He catches her smiling knowingly up at Anakin, one of those soft, sweet smiles he’d seen rare glimpses of between his parents. 

“You reminded me,” Kylo said once he’s found his voice again. “Today, you helped me.” 

Her laugh is like fairies dancing, pure light. “I just gave you a nudge in the right direction, my little prince. That’s all you needed.”

“And?” he can’t help but ask, burning for her approval like he’s a schoolboy again. 

“I’m impressed, Ben. I truly am. Then again, my daughter’s in a league of her own and I’m not surprised you learned some of her tricks.”

“She always wanted me to go into politics,” Ben sighs, and Padmé just grins at him. 

“Well, aren’t you a politician now?” 

“I don’t think that’s what she was thinking,” he’s tossing a lopsided grin at her, that infamous Solo one.

“What part? Restoring justice to the galaxy? Giving people their liberty back? Fighting for the little guy? That sounds exactly like your mother.” Padmé shoots him a serious look, one that says she honestly believes what she’s saying. 

“You don’t have much experience with the First Order, do you?” 

“So sarcastic,” she sighs. “That’s from you.” Padmé glares at Anakin accusingly, who holds up his hands in response. 

“Me? I seem to remember some pretty epic one-liners coming from that pretty mouth of yours.” Anakin feigns innocence, deftly dodging the white and gold embroidered slipper his wife throws at his head. 

“Anyways,” the diminutive brunette sighs, turning her attention back to her grandson. “I know the First Order that you inherited, and I see what you’re trying to build it into. While it’s not completely my preferred form of government, it checks the major boxes and is a vast improvement.”

Anakin’s huff gives Kylo pause, contemplating how many times his grandparents argue about this. 

“So many times, Ben.” his grandfather answers. 

“Oh, stop that, Ani. Don’t read his mind like that.” Padmé chides.

“I can’t help it! He thinks so loudly here!”

Padmé holds up another slipper threateningly, and Kylo wonders if she has an infinite number of them in this dreamworld. 

Anakin chokes back a snort. 

“Now, Ben, my dear boy, tell me about your Rey,” Padmé implores, big brown eyes begging and how can he say no? So he tells her everything: how Rey smells like Chandrilan roses and sunshine, how they met in a Takodana forest and her light sang for his dark, their Force Bond and their promises to each other; how he wants to treat her like a queen and make sure she’s spoiled and full for the rest of her life; but how he also strives to respect her autonomy, her decisions (to the point he almost didn’t). This last part makes Padmé throw her head back and laugh, wiping tears from her eyes as she came down. 

“Oh, stars, he _is_ yours, isn’t he?” She gives her once-secret husband a fond look, and maybe he’s imagining it, but Kylo thinks he sees Anakin’s chest puff with pride. 

“Trust me, your grandfather and I had some of the exact same difficulties. Although, I will say, the men have gotten much more progressive nowadays!”

“Oh, here we go,” Anakin mutters, and yep, Padmé has an infinite number of slippers to throw here. The third one lands a hit on Anakin’s shoulder, and he picks it up with a growl.

“I’m saving this for later,” he promises darkly, and Padmé goes absolutely scarlet. 

“Anakin Skywalker, behave yourself!” 

Okay, Grandpa’s a little kinky and Grandma’s a bit of a pearl-clutcher, got it. 

“You might want to keep her away from my f- Han. He’ll absolutely scandalize her.” Kylo warns, pretending not to notice Padmé frowning when he almost called him “his father”.

Padmé Amidala, however, isn’t a Skywalker or a Solo, and so she drops the issue rather than pressing it.

“Have you told her you loved her yet?” She says instead, and oh, Kylo wishes there was tea here. Last night it’d been Tattooinian mint tea, which wasn’t Kylo’s favorite but at least he could hide his blush behind the cup.

“Um, it’s a little fast for that, I think.”

Both his grandparents blink at him as if confused. Kylo vaguely recalls his grandfather mentioning that they’d gone from attraction to “I love you” to secretly married within a matter of weeks, which explains the confused look.

“Soon,” he sighs, and Padmé seems to relax. 

“Ah, good. I’d tell you to do that before you have sex, but that’d be rather hypocritical of me.” 

Kriffing Force, they really are all the same, Ben thinks, feeling his ears turn red. Anakin yelps a scandalized “Padmé!” and his grandmother’s downright hysterical, laughs echoing through the lush valley. 

“What? Do you mean I shouldn’t recommend the villa for their honeymoon?”

“I am so sorry,” Anakin mouths at his grandson. 

“Either way, you should tell her. Soon. Never count on there being a tomorrow, only count on today,” she says sagely, and there’s an ancient kind of sadness in her eyes. The kind from someone who counted on tomorrow, who watched her husband die - only to reborn as a monster, who watched her children grow as a ghostly spectator. 

“I will, Grandmother.” he vows, and Padmé beams at him, beyond pleased. She reaches up to cup his cheek, sighing happily. 

“Oh, Ben. My little prince, you’re going to make a fine king.” she breathes, throwing her arms back around him. “I love you, my little Ben,” her voice catches on the wind, sounding far away and no matter how hard he clutches, Padmé fades away until all he smells is a hint of lavender. Naboo fades with her, and he’s back on Tattooine with just Anakin now. 

“Sorry, it takes a lot of energy to bring non-Force users to these things. I thought I could hold on a little longer.” Anakin himself seems a little distant, like the edges of him are slightly blurred and faded. 

“Thank you,” is all Ben Solo can say, as if absolving his grandfather of this one thing. Anakin lays a hand on the former darksider’s broad shoulder, in an almost fatherly way, before the whole scene fades, catapulting Kylo back into the sweet endless night of sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Padme Amidala is the cinnamon roll of the Skywalker-Solo clan and I will fight anyone who disagrees. I wrote this scene months ago and am so happy to have finally worked in the Padme dream scene, which is just so soft and lovely and oh, grandmothers are special. If you still have a grandma around and are on good terms with them, do me a favor and go give them a call. You'll miss them when they're gone. 
> 
> Ok, now that we're through with Lilah's Moment of Feels for today: thank you all for hanging around as long as you have. I hope you're enjoying these dream scenes, and the fic, as much as I am writing it. I cannot wait for y'all to see Mirrorbright next week, as I actually teared up writing that chapter because this is *the* chapter where all this shit starts to finally gel together. I'm so excited.
> 
> As always, please leave kudos, comments, share this with your friends, your family, your badass grandma (just kidding, don't traumatize your nana), as I truly, truly appreciate all of that and it drives me to keep writing and posting.


	24. The Moon Will Help You Remember

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mirrorbright, shines the moon, its glow as soft as an ember  
> When the moon is mirrorbright, take this time to remember  
> Those you have loved but are gone  
> Those who kept you so safe and warm  
> The mirrorbright moon lets you see  
> Those who have ceased to be  
> Mirrorbright shines the moon, as fires die to their embers  
> Those you loved are with you still—  
> The moon will help you remember.

At first glance, _Mirrorbright_ looks like a dream. It’s as if someone’s pried open all the things Rey’s loved about other planets and made it real, a symphony of sea and forest with no sign of dead brown between.

Rey’s never seen so blue like this on a planet before, where vast spans of aquamarine surround white and emerald patches. Perhaps this is because _Mirrorbright_ is not a planet, she muses, but an artificial space station. After all, Starkiller Base was an icy gray-blue, because all of its energy was channelled into its super-weapon. Since _Mirrorbright’s_ not designed to destroy entire star systems, maybe that’s why it’s still so unnaturally blue and vibrant.

So … _alive_. 

Sure, it still has the ugly metallic belt surrounding it, but the giant, throbbing hole of Starkiller’s superweapon is gone. Smaller energy portals ring the planet, allowing the energy it draws from nearby stars to be more evenly distributed for it’s shield mechanism. Perhaps that’s why there are such large swatches of green, the redirected energy thawing the soil and creating life. 

As the _Enforcer_ swoops closer to land, Rey’s eyes make out tall spires of mountains ringing the lush valleys, snow and granite protecting the green meadows below. There are lakes, thousands of them, dotting the surface of _Mirrorbright_ \- reservoirs, she guesses, to provide enough water for its future inhabitants. 

It is beautiful, this pretend planet, a reminder that even things of destruction can be turned into something stunning and _good_. 

Kylo squeezes her hand, lacing his fingers in between hers. She can see his dark honeyed eyes examining the landscape, looking for potential flaws and errors. It feels almost like a recreation, like he’s modeling it after something important. 

Next to her stands Kittara Ren, mouth hanging open as she takes in the gorgeous view. She’s already draped in her fur cape, prepared for the cooler temperatures Kylo’s warned them about. For a second, Rey swears she sees a tear threaten the corner of Kittara’s eye, but she blinks it away quickly. This rare show of emotion only adds to Rey’s suspicion that _Mirrorbright’s_ inspired by something, the question being what.

“Kylo, it’s beautiful,” Rey says, hoping that he’ll respond with some confirmation as to just what she’s looking at. Kylo’s end of the Bond remains tightly guarded, letting only waves of emotion slip through.

“Just wait, sweetheart. We haven’t even gotten to the good part yet.” Kylo responds cryptically, as if trying to keep her in suspense. Her Jedi-killer raises his dark eyes towards the horizon ahead, the _Enforcer_ briefly cloud-covered before it dips below them again, landing gear humming as it deploys. They’re heading towards one of the snow-capped mountain ranges, purple-brown rock jutting out of the planet. As they get closer, Rey squints at the odd looking mountains ahead, so many jagged little spears. After a moment, she realizes with a squeal of delight that its not all mountains, but a city carved into one, designed to blend in with its environment. 

“Ben,” Kittara says, using his given name for once and her voice is thick with sentiment. “You did it. You really did it.”

Kylo says nothing, his eyes heavy with emotion despite the satisfied smirk on his lips. Rey’s not sure what Kittara means, or why she suddenly called him Ben, but she’s too curious to mull for long. By the time the ship lands at the shiny new spaceport in the mountain city, Rey’s draped in her white fur stole and muff, waiting impatiently for the boarding ramp to deploy. 

Alpha, Omega and Terror exit first, forming a triangle with Terror at the top as they march down the ramp. The Force tells Rey there are hundreds of Troopers waiting outside in formation, eager for a glimpse of their Supreme Leader.

Oddly enough, this no longer sends waves of anxiety through Rey. It’s almost like she’s gotten used to Stormtroopers. Almost. 

Kittara Ren goes next, heels clacking against the metal ramp, echoing throughout the landing pad. She forms the back wall of the triangle, more bodyguard than strategist now.

Kylo offers Rey his arm, and she gratefully loops hers through it. As they stride down the ramp, Rey’s stomach drops out as she senses everyone’s eyes trained on them. She can feel the shock in the Troopers’ mind, apparently unbelieving of the message Kylo broadcast in advance of Rey’s defection. 

‘… I can’t believe he got her to…’

‘… Dark side power…’

‘… Prettier than expected…’

‘… Damn, way to go, Ren…’

‘… He’s even better in person…’

‘… Maker, no one back home will ever believe…’

‘ … Like a fairy-tale…’

‘… Isn’t she a little short for a Jedi?’

Their thoughts are almost overwhelming, and Rey clamps her shields down over her mind, leaving only enough room for the Bond and Kylo to get through. The silence feels heavenly after all that chatter, and she wonders how Force users stay sane. 

_**Really?**_ Kylo snorts in her head. _**Think of all the Force users you’ve met. How many of them were sane?**_

Rey pauses. Obviously, she was sane, and she’s decided Kylo’s sane (or at least, her kind of insane). Leia, definitely sane. But Maz? Luke? 

Both crazier than loons. 

_You have a point._

Kylo doesn’t respond, his handsome features passive, but she feels him grinning at her through their Bond. They reach the bottom of the ramp and a middle aged officer steps forward, clad in the usual dark gray of the First Order’s higher ranking officers. His hands are behind his back, and he bows to the group, and then more deeply to Kylo.

“Supreme Leader, welcome to New Aldera.”

The officer keeps talking, but Rey’s too shocked to care to listen. ‘New Aldera?’ she thinks to herself, trying to keep her face neutral (and losing). She knows the name Aldera, from Leia, of course. The lost capital of Alderaan. A beautiful city built into the world’s tall, ice-capped peaks, famous for its skyline of buildings that looked like miniature mountaintops. 

Alderaan.

Leia Organa’s lost homeworld. A peaceful planet, she’d always bemoaned, of no weapons, no way to protect themselves from the Empire’s cruelty as the Death Star approached. 

Something tickles at Rey’s brain, like a child tugging on its mother’s skirts for attention. It’s a jewelry box, Rey thinks, recognizing the sweet chimes from a long buried memory that doesn’t belong to her. 

Softly, she hears a woman singing, a long buried memory resurfacing: _“When the moon is mirrorbright, take this time to remember…”_

As if swimming through mud, Rey turns her head slowly towards Kylo. Shock must be apparent on her face because he shakes his head, pleading silently for her to wait until later to react. She swallows, choking her emotions down and returning her face to what she hopes is a neutral gaze, remembering the large audience surrounding them. Rey focuses her eyes on the wall just past the Officer’s head, made of white rock and durasteel. She lifts her chin a bit, mimicking the regal look Leia gives when she’s trying to impress. 

The irony of pretending to be an Alderaani royal does not escape her.

Finally, the officer quits with his droning, and there’s the snapping sound of hundreds (if not thousands) of Stormtroopers saluting in perfect unison for their leader. The noise triggers that familiar unease in Rey’s gut, that irrational fear of Troopers that she’d thought she’d overcome. Luckily, they start walking forwards, down the corridor of armored bodies before entering the gleaming white building ahead. Its doors swish open in a way that feels too fast, too surreal for Rey, even though she knows its just thanks to the fresh hydraulics. 

The whole planet feels like a dream. 

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Kittara Ren’s eyes glance upward at the ornate carvings over the door, and the dark knight almost stumbles before catching herself. They follow down the same First Order officer down a hall and into a lift, where he continues to yammer on about the specifications of the artificial world. Rey’s paid enough attention to gather that the man’s Alderaanian, having been just a child when his homeworld was destroyed. He was spared, since he was traveling with his mother off-world, but his father and siblings were killed. Ever since he was recruited for the _Mirrorbright_ project and sworn to secrecy, he’s devoted every second of his life to making New Aldera a perfect replica of his lost home.

The group exits the lift and suddenly, there’s a woman with her hair in intricate braids, two small children standing in front of them. The three all bow deeply towards Kylo, but before there can be any response, the woman’s tearfully thanking Kylo, gushing, “Supreme Leader, you’ve let my children see my home, I never thought they would. Thank you,” she cries, and the Officer (Admiral Hapo? Rey thinks, but isn’t sure) seems slightly embarrassed. 

“Miriam,” he mutters softly, cautioning her. It’s said in such a tender way, familiar, and based on the golden bands encircling both Miriam and Admiral Hapo’s fingers, Rey guesses they’re married. It’s an odd thought, First Order officers being in love, having children, behaving tenderly. Like sentient beings, although Rey supposes that’s what they are, so why shouldn’t they?

‘Because its easier to dehumanize the enemy,’ something wise whispers back. 

“I am glad that I’ve been able to give the Alderaani a place to remind them of home. My hope is for this space station to help heal those old wounds, and become a place all Alderaani can call home.” Kylo responds to the grateful woman. His words are solemn, firm, almost regal, but yet not unkind, and here, he is 100% Ben Solo, Rey thinks.

Then Miriam does something that throws all of them for a loop. She drops to her knees, as if praying, and speaks in a strange language that is definitely not Basic.

“Aurilate, ma prindu, aurilate.”

_Thank you, my prince, thank you._ Rey’s never heard Alderaani before, but maybe that’s another skill lifted from Kylo’s mind because she understands it, and the meaning behind it. 

Prince Ben Solo, the heir of Princess Leia Organa, the would-be Queen of Alderaan. 

“Miriam!” Hapo cries out, now not just flustered but concerned for his wife’s life, his panic leeching sweat and fear into the Force around him. Because yes, the First Order’s officers all knew who Kylo Ren _really_ is, but his birth name’s remained unspoken under penalty of death. While Kylo Ren seems fine with reconnecting to his Alderaanian heritage, that doesn’t mean he’s acknowledging that he’s also the son of the sainted Princess Leia, Heir of House Organa and … y’know, the enemy. 

Kylo drops Rey’s hand to extend it to Miriam. Everyone freezes, all eyes on the pair as Kylo helps the frazzled, emotional woman to her feet.

“Verite, Miriam,” he says softly, and with that, his hand returns to Rey’s, clutching it perhaps a little tighter as they walk across another open air veranda towards their quarters. Rey takes the opportunity to look out over the skyline, tilting her head inquisitively at the odd sense of deja vu that grips her as she does. 

It’s not long before they make it to Kylo Ren’s private apartment, where Hapo and the _Mirrorbright_ escort leave them to settle in. The moment they’re gone, Kylo sweeps Rey towards their personal chambers with only a nod and a mumbled request to get some rest. Kylo’s guards hadn’t slept during their journey, their fatigue only heightening their bewilderment. Terror’s the only one able to give more than a dazed nod back to Kylo. 

It’s as if the whole group’s been knocked off their foundations by what they’ve seen.

“Holy shit,” is the last thing Rey hears Kittara breathe before the thick door separating Kylo’s rooms from the common area slides shut (again, far too fast for her liking). It silences any other words uttered by Kittrara, and Rey guesses the rooms are soundproofed for extra privacy. 

If she wasn’t still in that soft, muted world of shock she’d be far more appreciative of it. 

Instead, Rey sinks down onto a plush loveseat, not noticing that she’s dropped her muff on the plush carpeted floor. Her movements still feel too slow, disconnected from her actual body as she struggles to process what she’s just seen. 

Kylo flops down in an overstuffed chair across from her, hand snagged in his black curls as he battles his own doubts internally. After a moment, he looks up at Rey with nervous, hopeful eyes. 

“Do you like it?” he asks softly. Rey resists the urge to ask whether he means will Leia like it, as she’s the person Kylo’s built this world for. But Rey knows Kylo’s too raw for that right now, his mind a turmoil of fear, doubt, regret, hurt, love, hope, need.

“I love it. It’s… beautiful.” Rey’s not sure why her voice shakes when she says it, why her eyes sting hot with tears.

“I want… there are so many scars left, by the First Order, by the Empire. Those scars, I know, only undermine any legitimacy I gain, any hope of peace and order in the galaxy. How can the people trust us if we refuse to repair the damage we’ve reaped? How can we argue that we’re right when we haven’t tried to fix the wrongs we’ve made?” Kylo asks, but Rey knows they’re all rhetorical questions. 

“We can give reparations to the people we’ve harmed, but how do we fix the destruction of a world? How do I fix the evil my grandfather inflicted?” Now Kylo’s whispering, voice broken from the weight of carrying the sins of his family too long. Rey wants to reassure him that he’s not responsible for Vader’s actions, but while she knows that’s true; she also knows the galaxy, the court of public opinion, disagrees. 

Some, of course, will chalk _Mirrorbright_ up to Kylo’s ego, especially once his ancestry becomes common knowledge. This is his heritage, after all, ironically destroyed with the help of his own grandfather, and by re-building Alderaan, he’s recreated his lost throne. 

But assuming that is akin to believing this is all for political gain or to win the affections of Alderaani refugees. No, Kylo’s not just seeking forgiveness from his people for the Empire’s sins. 

After all, it’s not his throne to take, at least not yet. 

_Mirrorbright_ is penance to a mother he never could quite hate; a still traumatized orphan princess who carried him in her womb, her arms, her heart, even at his darkest. It’s a plea for forgiveness for three generations of men who betrayed Leia Organa, in the most grandiose way possible.

If anything, it’s such a Solo way to repent, Rey thinks. But then again, that’s the point. It’s not just some trivial gesture that politicians make. It’s a clear signal that Ben Solo’s still here, no matter his title, or what he calls himself. 

It means that even before Rey left the Resistance, even before Kylo knew she’d join him, he was planning on a way to make things right. To restore balance.

To find peace.

Kylo’s reading Rey’s mind as her thoughts flick through them, his dark eyes confirming everything she’s thinking. He’s barely breathing, those plush berry lips of his slightly parted, and Rey can’t resist brushing hers against them, sealing her approval, her understanding with a kiss. 

Suddenly, Rey’s swept off her feet and up into Ben’s arms, being carried across their chambers and into the bedroom. There’s something needy and demanding in his eyes, something not dark, not light, but decidedly gray, a call Rey’s only too happy to answer, she thinks as he lays her down on the bed. 

She’ll do anything for him, she thinks, anything for the man she loves. Seeing what he’s built, what he made, even after she’d left him on the Supremacy, twists the key in the lock he has over her heart, her soul. She loves him, she thinks, her Jedi-killer, her dark prince. 

“I love you,” the words tumble out of her lips before she can keep them from spilling, and she goes white and still as she realizes what she’s said.

It’s not that she didn’t, it’s just that she felt - well, she was planning on waiting to say it, and she feels stripped bare, vulnerable, as if naked and strapped down to an interrogation chamber, completely unarmed before him. She instinctively curls her arms around herself, protectively, walls going up as she stammers out an apology.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean- I mean, I did, I do, but that wasn’t- I’m sorry, Kylo, I didn’t want, I don’t - damn my stupid mouth!” she screams in frustration at the end, not sure why her words continue to come out jumbled, feeling scared and exposed and very worried that he doesn’t also and she’s just ruined things, ruined, and -

“Rey, don’t be afraid,” Kylo murmurs. “I love you, too.” his eyes are soft, softer than she’s ever seen and she melts into the hand on her cheek, relief flooding her chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, many, many thanks to [Perperuna for the amazing moodboard she made for me! Look at it. It's so *pretty*.](https://itsalilah.tumblr.com/post/176017456246/perperuna93-moodboard-for-safe-harbor-by) Perperuna, you're amazing, thank you so much!
> 
> (Of course, I can't figure out the freaking Ao3 html for embedding an image since img src ain't working... anyone willing to offer a girl some help?)
> 
> Second, how about that reveal, guys? Who here guessed it? And who here totally agrees that Ben Solo would just low-key go all SimCity on a space station and make a new Alderaan in lieu of a bouquet for Leia? 
> 
> Finally: THEY SAID IT. SQUEE, Y'ALL, THEY SAID IT AND IT WAS ALL SOFT AND LOVELY AND OH MY GODS ITS SO SAPPY. I need a shower. All these icky emotions and feels. Where's Hux, I need to write evil again and cleanse myself. 
> 
> Oh, ps: there's another chapter coming tonight. It's smut. Here's the thing though for all you smut skippers: read the end past the dotted line. It's super important for the next chapter but I am not making 200 words into its own chapter. The dashes shall keep you safe.


	25. God is a Woman (The Smuttening, Pt. 3)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Ahem!**
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> **Attention readers! The following chapter contains smut! As always, if you don't like smut, ain't old enough for smut, or aren't in a smut-appropriate location, please skip ahead to the ~~next chapter~~ _the dashed line almost at the end of the chapter_. The one that goes across the page. It looks like this:**
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> **That's your sign that anything below that is NOT smut and actually central to the plot!**
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> **Continuing to read this chapter from the beginning is assumption of the risk that you might read something obscene and are old enough to do so. Meaning I ain't liable if you do. Capeesh?**

They lay there for awhile, limbs entwined but their minds both lost in reflection. Rey’s really just captivated by listening to Kylo’s thoughts, their Bond fully open so she can hear everything he thinks like its her own. 

He feels safe here, for the first time since Rey’s come to him, she realizes. The soldiers and officers here are all loyal to him, carefully screened and all corrupted to prevent any leaks or risks. _Mirrorbright_ itself is protected from any attacks with its shielding, just becoming fully operational this morning. The revelation makes one of those worry lines in his brown evaporates, allows his shoulders to slacken just slightly. 

Briefly, Kylo’s mind flickers to Miriam, the unfamiliarity of being thanked so earnestly. Of bringing a woman to her knees out of fear, but gratitude. It fills his belly with warmth but his still scarred brain isn’t sure whether to trust the feeling, but Rey’s able to guide his mind away from trying to undermine Miriam’s motives. She’s teaching him how to trust others, those outside their little bubble. It’s a bit like watching a child scale a Star Destroyer for the first time: wobbly and uncertain, and you can only pray they don’t get hurt while learning. Eventually, the cloud of doubt lifts. 

Rey peppers Kylo’s face with kisses when she hears him think that its the first time he’s felt like he’s truly done something _right_.

As Kylo muses over whether it would ever be possible to build even a small scale version of Hosnian Prime (a city planet requiring far too much energy than what _Mirrorbright’s_ specifications can offer), his index finger idly strokes down Rey’s neck, tracing the cord of muscle there. His hands are bare, gloves long abandoned once he took Rey in his arms, his skin warm against hers. For Rey, it takes two strokes before she feels the familiar tendrils of arousal awakening in her belly, stretching like lothcats after a nap. Her attention span weakens with each stroke, although she senses that Kylo’s so far down the wormhole of his mind that he’s not even aware as to what he’s doing. 

Rey tries to concentrate on the gooey, fluttering feeling of being loved instead, remembering the roughness in Kylo’s voice when he told her he loved her back. But lust and love have gone hand in hand for ages, and it only stokes the tightening fire building in Rey’s veins. Kylo’s fingers move slow and featherlight across her collarbone, shifting slightly but still an embarrassingly innocent place to touch. 

Rey blames the growing dampness between her thighs on being touch-starved for too long. 

“You mean that’s not for me?” Kylo whispers in her ear, his breath tickling the shell and Gods, Rey’s nipples pebble at the sensation. She turns her head so she’s facing him, taking in that obnoxious half smirk on his face telling her that oh, he noticed. His eyes dart back up to hers, from where they were most assuredly observing her body’s reaction - and the fact that her current attire didn’t provide much padding to hide her hard nipples. 

One large hand skitters down, over the purple shimmersilk of her blouse, to her covered breasts, where it began slowly circling around the hardened bud. Rey can’t help but arch up into his touch, wanting more as the heat of his skin burned through the fabric, maneuvering her lips towards his. 

Kylo’s smirk turned into a wicked grin as he pulled back, tsking his tongue as he did. “Ah-ah, my little loth-cat. I thought you didn’t want to disturb my reverie.” he teased, and oh, fuck, Rey hates their Bond at the moment, hates the way it betrays her sometimes. Kylo uses the moment to gently pinch her nipple, Rey swallowing her gasp in response.

“Keep the Bond open,” he instructs, voice rough, and Rey nods with a swallow, reopening her end fully. Her cheeks turn crimson as she does, well aware that he’ll be able to sense the way she’s covertly clamping her thighs together, how greedy she is for his touch. 

From Kylo’s angle, he can see the rise and fall of her chest, the top of her tunic gapping away from her skin. It allows him a clear view of her perfectly round breasts, flattened by the way she’s lying on her back, and the rosy little buds on top. It both inflates his pride and humbles him to see how her nipples are hard as duraglass now, all thanks to his ministrations. He’s not able to resist such a treat, sliding his index and middle fingers under the fabric to pinch it again, this time with bare hands. It sends sparks of lust down her body, and this time, she can’t catch her breathy mewl from escaping. 

The sound drives Kylo wild, but he keeps his face disguised and eyes faraway, pretending to still be lost in thought. The Bond works both ways, and Rey knows his expression’s all for show. His game only makes her more determined to serve it right back at him, and she focuses her hazel eyes on an imaginary spot on the ceiling as she tries to regulate her breathing. 

‘That won’t do,’ Kylo thinks, and he moves his hand to the other nipple, pinching it with the slightest pull like he’d done before, remembering how it made her moan. He’s convinced he sees her break into a sweat as she fights to keep her face neutral, although her breath hitches ever so slightly. 

Kylo spends a few more moments teasing her breasts under her dress, trying to coax a visual or verbal response out of her. Rey’s completely lost the battle on breathing normally, each inhale ragged, but she’s otherwise done a great job of giving him nothing in their little game. It’s not one Kylo intends on losing, so he decides to up the ante just a little bit. 

He rolls over top of her, pinning her down with his broad torso while ensnaring her lips in a heated kiss.

“Oh, am I allowed to distract you now?” Rey asks haughtily when he pulls away.

“I think I might be the one distracting you at this point,” desire makes his voice deeper, and Gods damn, how her body reacts. 

Rey struggles to keep her voice unaffected as she retorts, “I’m hardly distracted.”

“Mm-hmm,” Kylo’s unconvinced, laying sweet little kisses along her jaw. When he reaches the space just behind her ear he grazes it with his teeth, and Rey squirms beneath him. “But since you’re so unaffected, how about we see just how strong that attention span of yours is.”

Rey grits her teeth but remains silent, not willing to show any sign of weakness. Kylo Ren knows how to awaken too many things in her: lust, desire, and sheer, unadulterated competitiveness. 

“If I can get you to scream, I win,” he murmurs against her throat, punctuating his terms by slightly sucking the skin there. He’s intentionally marking her, Rey knows, but doesn’t dare open her mouth to complain. 

So maybe she likes being possessed when it comes to the bedroom. 

“But if you can make it through everything I do to you now without a peep, the game is yours,” Kylo’s thumb is running over her clothed nipples, and Rey desperately wants to tell him to take the kriffing top off.

However, Rey also really wants to win, and so she instead says, “You’re on.” She even raises her head to look him in the eye defiantly, not even caring that no prizes were named.

(Really, its a win-win situation either way.)

“Just keep the Bond open,” he whispers, and there’s something needy there, something desperate below. He needs to know he affects her, her willing participation, her consent, despite his darker urges to torture her through passion. 

Rey nods reassuringly.

Like that, his mouth is on hers again, tongues dueling as he wedges his thick leg between her thighs. She knows he can feel the way her hips thrust against the muscle of his thigh, using her body to beg for his touch. She vaguely feels his hand on her side, undoing the hidden zipper of her tunic, granting her earlier wish. He breaks away from her mouth long enough to yank the top over her head, groaning as he takes in her bare breasts. 

“Gods, I love these,” he says as he descends upon them, ravenous, his mouth closing over one nipple so his tongue can flick across it, teasing her. Rey’s biting her lip to keep herself from even whimpering, each lick making her cunt throb with desire.

There’s a sinfully dark chuckle in the back of her mind, where Kylo’s listening, feeling her reactions. Here, Rey’s thoughts can be as noisy as she wants, a convenient loophole (although Kylo’s thoroughly enjoying the effect he has on her). 

He rakes his teeth across her hardened bud before switching to her other breast, and Rey’s hand snarls itself into his black curls. She arches her back again up into him, grinding her core against him as she does.

“Fuck, Rey, I can feel how wet you are,” Kylo gasps as he pulls away from her chest, pupils blown wide with lust. Rey doesn’t dare respond, doesn’t dare surrender, but she lifts her hips helpfully as he slowly drags her leggings down her legs. 

At the feeling of cool air on her soaked folds, Rey remembers that she’d foregone panties today. She’d run out of clean ones, and decided to go without other than risk Kylo demanding a detour to make sure she had plenty of underwear. 

Judging by the stare he’s giving her now bare body, Rey chose wisely. 

“Force, Rey, you’re going to fucking kill me.” Ben’s suddenly reverential, looking at her like a goddess. He takes a finger and swipes it up along her lips, groaning as he sees his finger come away glistening with her slick. 

It’s as if something snaps in Kylo, any hesitation gone as he pulls her thighs apart. He’s kneeling between her knees, and Rey wonders with a blush if he’s going to watch himself fingering her.

Kriff, why does she find that so arousing?

Judging by the muffled moan, Kylo does too, but his eyes are black sin and wicked.

“Oh, sweetheart, next time I will, but I intend to return your favor now.”

It takes Rey 2.78 standard seconds to process what, exactly, Kylo intends, the exact same amount of time it takes Kylo to bend down and run his tongue up through Rey’s folds, tasting her for the very first time. His cock actually jerks up at the taste, the smell, the feeling of his tongue on her clit, and he has to take a second to re-center himself. 

After all, he’s determined to win this round. 

Rey’s fingers twist into the bedsheets, desperate and clawing as she vaguely recalls their shared dream and how hard he’d made her come with his mouth there. Her thighs actually quiver with anticipation as she clenches her lips together, vowing not to let Kylo Ren and his dirty little tricks cost her a victory. 

Sensations in a Force Bond dream are undoubtedly skewed, even vulnerable to manipulation, so this might not even feel nearly as good in reality, right?

As if he can hear her thoughts (oh, wait, he _can_ ), Kylo growls into her pussy and takes the opportunity to flick his tongue up again, sharpening it into a firm point as he finds the hidden nub of her clitoris. Rey’s hips buck forward, needy, desperate, as the tight coil in her stomach starts to grow supernova hot, constricting with each lick. Kylo’s experimenting, seeing what Rey likes best. She’s fine with the gentle little licks over her clit, lapping at the center of her folds makes her thrash her head side to side. When he fucks her with his tongue, it doesn’t do much for her besides feel like something positively dirty, forbidden (which most definitely turns her on, a fun discovery Kylo’s definitely going to explore more and at a later point). But when he curls his tongue up, pressing over her sensitive button and circling around it, pushing on the nerves there, Rey can’t stop a gasp from escaping and Kylo knows he’s found his winning stroke, so to speak. 

He teases her first, acting like he hadn’t noticed her reaction before. He watches the way her fists curl the sheets around them, the way her hips grind towards him, begging, begging for him to do it again, _touch me like that again_ , her body, her mind sings. She’s near delirious for his mouth, his lips, writhing in need as her cunt leaks more of that sweet honey, Kylo dutifully lapping up every drop that he can. Its smeared all over his lips, his chin, surrounding him and he can’t help but thrust into the softness of the bed every so often, his own arousal just as desperate.

“Surrender to me, Rey. You know you want to. I can feel it, see it, the way you’re holding back, holding it in,” Kylo taunts, goading his little Scavenger and smirking when he sees both fire and need battling it out in her eyes. She’s beautiful like this, his fierce desert Goddess, flushed and wound so, so tight for him. He flicks his tongue against her clit again, watching her back arch up towards him, and Gods, he’s trembling from resisting the urge to just unzip his pants and pull her onto him.

Rey, the little loth-cat she is, intentionally sends him a mental image of him on top of her, hips pistoning as he slams into her over and over again. Kylo’s eyes almost roll back at the thought of it and he grips her thighs so tight he knows he’s leaving bruises.

“Oh, my wicked girl, is that how you want to play it?” Kylo yanks her down, back towards his face, and for a second, he sees Rey’s eyes widen as she realizes what she’s done. Kylo clamps his lips around the top of her clit, sucking the hard little pearl in and running his teeth gently, gently over it. Rey’s body shudders, eyes rolling back in her head, sending her dangerously close to the edge. He releases her with a wet smack, pulling away for a second only to dive back in, only now doing that move with his tongue where it presses and circles just right, now that he’s made her clit hypersenstive from the sucking and oh, _Force_ , she’s fucking floating, she’s mindless, everything going white as she came hard, harder than ever, she barely registers opening her mouth, much less screaming his name.

“Fuck, yes, Kylo, yes!” she’s still hissing the last syllable as she comes down, toes uncurling and body going boneless till it all registers.

“Fucking… that was a dirty trick,” she groans, covering her eyes with her forearm. She’d been so close to winning, too. 

Kylo only chuckles, moving back up to her head so he can kiss her forehead. Rey’s able to pull him down for a kiss with a still shaking hand, feeling him hesitate as she pressed her lips against his. 

“What?” she asks as she pulls back. 

“I don’t - you kissed me.” He’s clearly confused, brow furrowed and Rey rolls her eyes at her overly dramatic lover.

“Yes, we’ve established that I like kissing you, and I’ll do it when I want.”

“But, my mouth - you’re all over it?” Gods damned it all to Hell, Ben Solo’s adorable when he blushes, suddenly shy and it takes Rey as second to find the meaning behind his words.

Slowly, teasingly, she licks her lips, tasting herself as she does. Kylo groans, his own hips grinding down onto hers unbidden.

“I like the taste of me on you,” Rey purrs, and feels what is undoubtedly his cock actually twitch against her. 

One of the most fun facts about Kylo Ren is that she can shock the everloving wits out of him, leaving him incredibly exposed to a Force attack. This is the only reason why, he later convinces himself, he finds himself knocked on his back without warning, pants shucked off and Rey’s lips wrapped around his length, taking him straight to heaven as she licks and sucks. He’s just thankful that she’s somehow perpendicular to his hips (seriously, how did they find such a wide bed? he wonders), meaning he can work one of his fingers into her sweet little cunt as she goes down on him. She moans as he curls his finger against her spongier front muscles, pressing against her g-spot. The vibrations of her throat, her mouth around him makes Kylo cry out with pleasure.

That’s how Kylo Ren, Supreme Leader of the First Order, learns just why the crasser boys at the Academy referred to the act as a “hummer”. Something which he greatly enjoys, almost as much as coming hard with Rey’s pink lips wrapped around him as she comes on his fingers, both of them blissed out and breathless at the end. 

He’s got enough strength afterwards to pull her up, back into his arms - back where his little sand goddess belongs, he thinks. She snuggles into the crook of his neck with a content little sigh, skin to skin, and he draws the blankets around them.

“I love you,” he whispers into her hair, combing his fingers through it.

 _I love you,_ she responds through their Bond, and he pulls her closer, savoring the moment while he can.

—————————— ————————————————————————————————

 

“Thank the Force,” Kylo sighs with relief and wholly without irony as he registers that he at least is clothed in the odd dreamworld of his grandfather’s creation, even when he’s (actually) sleeping naked as a babe. 

“Agreed,” Anakin snorts from across him. They’re in a pure black void, and Kylo gets an odd sense of _betweenness_ , this place. He looks around, craning his neck for some sign of light, of exit, of something. But there’s nothing to see, nothing other than him and his grandfather. 

“Where are we?”

“A waiting area, of sorts,” Anakin says, clearly not willing to divulge any more. Kylo nods, mostly because that feels exactly right, still wholly discomforted by the darkness of it all. 

“I take it tonight’s not another night with Grandmother?” he asks, and Anakin shakes his head. His eyes are a darker blue tonight, more forlorn, as if he himself was troubled. 

Then again, Skywalkers love to brood over anything.

“Tonight… I will be there tonight, Kylo, but I don’t want to make things any more volatile with my presence. If you need me, just reach for me, and I’ll come. In the meantime, I’ll be lurking in the background.”

“You promised to stay with me,” Kylo hurtles the accusation, fists tightening with anger. Couldn’t one of his kriffing family members live up to their word? Or was he doomed to abandonment forever? And what did he mean, that Anakin’s presence would only make things more volatile? Luke? 

Kylo’s chest tightens at the thought of facing his uncle alone. Anakin’s saying something about how he’ll still technically be there, trying to calm him down, but Kylo’s pulling away, panic gripping his throat. Damn him for ever trusting his flesh and blood, even his own grandfather’s willing to betray him. Abandon him to Luke. He sees a glimmer of gold and silver, wrapped with red, coiled tight like a rope. 

‘The Bond,’ he realizes, and he reaches for it, stretching his gloved fingers out towards the end so he can pull himself to safety, to Rey. Away from this wretched place and his wretched family -

“Ben.”

The dark prince freezes at the sound of his name, not uttered from his grandfather’s lips but another’s. The Bond’s rope slips away, back to just out of reach, but he’s too shocked to care, to react. 

Slowly, Kylo Ren turns to face the voice, still so familiar despite being weathered from age, heartbreak, loss. 

His jaw clenches as his eyes lower to take in her face. Those eyes, still chocolate brown, so warm like her mother’s, but laced with so much pain. She’s got far more wrinkles now, brow permanently creased, crow’s feet and dimples more pronounced. Even her braided hair’s darkened with age, streaks of gray interlaced with faded brown. She’s wrapped in the same plum jacket that he last saw her in on Crait, a glimpse through the Force as she watched her brother’s so-called sacrifice. Her hand grips the head of a wooden cane, ornately carved, like her life depends on it, her knuckles are white.

She’s still wearing the wedding ring of kyber Han Solo gave her.

Kylo Ren’s known this moment was coming, prepared himself for it as much as he could. What he hadn’t prepared himself for was for his mother to look so old.

“Hello, Mother,” he says evenly, calmly. 

“Hello, son,” she says, with the slightest hint of a smirk on her face. “It’s been awhile.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ariana Grande is my motherfucking girl, y'all. And bless any person that enjoys eating a girl out. 
> 
> I never said I was classy. 
> 
> (Somewhere, in the back of my mind, there's a piece of me that's sobbing about how I have a doctorate and a fancy title that rhymes with smeshquire and yet here I am writing smutty mcsmut smut on my Sunday. Luckily for y'all, the part of my brain that sounds like Kittara Ren tied up the whining part and is poking it with a sharp nail file.)
> 
> Anyways, that cliffhanger. It's almost like I was like, you know what we need? ANGST. And just like a depressed Russian novelist, angst appeared, unbidden, right at the end of that smut. Because I am determined to never let Kylo Ren enjoy a good afterglow, or something. But its the conversation you've all been waiting for: Leia and Kylo's tete a tete. Betting is open over on my tumblr ( ~~I'll update with a link to the post when its ready~~ \- see below) as to just how this all goes down. Obviously, we're betting for bragging points, but let's be honest, who doesn't love being right?
> 
> Finally, thank you all for taking the time to read my baby. I hope you enjoyed today's divergence from the outline (the smut came randomly and was written and edited in 5 hours), or the reveal, or the cliffhanger. As always, I'll be lurking in the comments below, happy to answer questions and offer sarcastic commentary on my own lunacy.
> 
> [Tumblr post for betting](http://itsalilah.tumblr.com/post/176175632546/safe-harbor-chs-24-and-25)


	26. Mother, Mother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last week:
> 
> Kylo Ren’s known this moment was coming, prepared himself for it as much as he could. What he hadn’t prepared himself for was for his mother to look so old.
> 
> “Hello, Mother,” he says evenly, calmly. 
> 
> “Hello, son,” she says, with the slightest hint of a smirk on her face. “It’s been awhile.”
> 
> ============
> 
> It's time for Kylo Ren to speak to his mama.

For awhile, the pair stand there, staring at each other. It’s not a kind gaze, both appraising the other with a mixture of wariness and curiosity that’s only fitting when one remembers that they’ve been enemies for the past five years. Neither seem willing to break their visual standoff, Kylo’s hands clenched tightly into fists, Leia’s clutching her cane like she’s trying to choke it. 

For Kylo, seeing his mother so old and worn makes guilt flood through him, the darkest parts of him whispering, ‘you did this, you did this to her.’ The torrent overwhelms him, making him gasp in a breath before falling back to old habits, old crutches as he seeks out the soothing embrace of his always present anger.

The funny thing about mothers and sons is they have a penchant for being alike, sometimes _too_ alike. Leia Organa and her dark son certainly fall into this category, and so as Kylo wraps himself in his shield of anger, Leia can’t help but regress too, a smirk painting her pink lips. 

“All black, hmm?” she asks wryly, raising an eyebrow. “You must really want to make a point.”

Kylo’s nostrils flare, that feeling of inadequacy rushing up against him. Her tone, so sanctimonious, so much like… Luke’s.

“I should say the same to you, _General_.” he spits out the honorific, eyes darkening. “Dressed up so nicely as the grieving widow. Pretending to mourn the husband who abandoned you. Or is it your brother that you mourn now?”

Leia’s eyes narrow. “What can I say, I’m used to my male blood leaving me alone to clean up their messes.” 

The implication is not lost on Kylo Ren, and his fists curl into such tight balls, the leather seams of his gloves squeak in protest. 

“ _You_ left me.” he growls, hunching down so he looms over her, emphasizing each word as he attempts to intimidate her. But he knows he’ll never truly intimidate Leia Organa. The woman’s stared down death a million times and spit in its eye, only to escape its grasp over and over. 

Like clockwork, her chocolate eyes flash and she raises her hand, imperiously jabbing her finger in her son’s face. 

“I never left you, Ben Solo. That is a _lie_ and you know it.”

“No, you did. And _you_ know it,” he hurls back, unconsciously bracing himself for the slap he knows is coming. He’s watched this dance a million times, between her and Han Solo, and now, he’s here to fill the father’s shoes, bear the smack of her hand on his cheek and her fiery rage and pay penance for the sins of his father. 

Except the slap never comes, although there is an indignant, very un-regal squawk from his mother as Anakin Skywalker smoothly intercepts her wrist, encircling it with his large palm. 

“No.” is all his grandfather says, glaring and intimidating and every inch the patriarch he’d always wanted to be. 

“How dare you!” Leia yanked her hand away, as if her father’s touch burned her skin. “You are not part of this conversation, there is no place-“

Anakin sighed. It’s the deep, long sigh of someone who has bounced between dark and light, who has lived a thousand painful lives, and is now _very over this shit_.

“Leia.” 

To Ben Solo’s utter and completely disbelief, his mother actually falls silent at Anakin’s admonishment. She isn’t cowed, of course, but she does finally break that unrelenting stare of hers, crossing her arms tightly against her chest in a defensive measure. For a second, Kylo thinks he actually see something like regret flash through her eyes. He unconsciously leans back at the sight of it, as if the thought of Leia Organa actually apologizing to someone, anyone, frightens him.

“This isn’t about me and you. This is about you and him. Like we talked about.” Anakin’s chiding Leia like a father to a ornery toddler, and the surreality of the moment finally pierces through Kylo’s shield of rage. 

It starts as a bubble in his stomach, one slightly uncomfortable and fighting up like the onset of heartburn. It jettisons itself up, up past his throat and into his mouth, expelling itself as what sounds like a choked laugh. But it doesn’t stop then; no, it continues, that odd, hysterical sound of actual, genuine laughter leaving Kylo Ren’s throat until he doubles over, clutching at his sides. 

When his giggles finally subside, he finds his mother and grandfather staring at him like he’s truly, deeply, absolutely banthashit crazy. Naturally, this only causes another fit to overtake him, and by the time he’s done, Ben actually feels lightheaded.

“Are you… all right?” Leia asks hesitantly, looking very concerned that she’d actually just driven her son to complete lunacy. 

“Yes, I’m… ah, I’m fine, sorry, I’m fine.” Kylo struggles to return his face to its usual glare, lips twitching. Anakin’s are too, except he’s got no reason to hide his smirk. 

Well, other than the very annoyed and volatile sixty-one inches of pissed off Resistance General within striking distance of him.

“What in the Stars was that about?” Leia demands of them both, but only Anakin’s brave enough to say it. 

“I believe my grandson was appreciating the irony in the situation.”

“He gets that from you, you know.” Leia grouses. There’s a softness in her eyes, though, and she’s no longer clutching the cane like she’s about to Force-choke her son into submission. 

As if sensing the change in Leia, Anakin steps back, giving the pair distance. “I should go,” he nods, as if thinking out loud. He turns to his grandson, trying to look as reassuring as possible. “I promise, Kylo, if anything else happens, I’ll be here, just not visible.”

Kylo’s previous annoyance tickles at his throat, and he feels his fist tighten again. (It’s a miracle his gloves stay intact, honestly.)

“No,” Leia says, and both men whirl their heads towards her, black and blond curls whipping as they did. It is ridiculously synchronized, and invokes a severe eyeroll from the Crown Princess of Alderaan. 

“Force almighty.” she mutters under her breath.

“Leia, I can go, I know you’re uncomfortable-“

“I said no.” The Former Darth falls silent as his daughter cuts him off with a wave of her hand, eyes hard and determined. “You made a promise to my son, not to me. And if it makes him more comfortable, I can deal with it. I’ve already made him uncomfortable enough.”

It’s an odd admission from Leia, one that’s vulnerable and silences any trickle of doubt at her intentions in Ben Solo’s mind. 

With another wave of Leia’s bejeweled hand a table appears between the mother and son, simple wood stained with a rich, oaky hue. Two chairs apparate into the space behind them, plush and overstuffed like the ones in Kylo’s _Mirrorbright_ chambers. Kylo recognizes them as Alderaanian replicas, which explains the similarity. Leia sinks gracefully into hers, snapping her fingers to make a teapot and two teacups appear. He recognizes it as the one his father bought her, another recreation of an Alderaanian design. 

“I hear tea is popular during these things. Sweet bread?” Leia offers wryly, a plate coming out of nowhere and loaded with the treats. Kylo can’t help but think that Rey would be in heaven right now. 

“She does have a sweet tooth, doesn’t she,” Leia grins, almost knowingly, pouring the dark brown tea into their cups. “How is Rey?”

“Fine,” Kylo mutters, still taking in his mother being _here_ , across from him, like this; the sudden shift in her mood as well as her flagrant use of the Force. He’d never seen her use it so readily - or to such extent - in her life. 

“I don’t get a chair?” Anakin whined from the background, and Leia shot her birth father a sharp look. 

“No, and you don’t get any sweet breads either. Consider it payback from the people of Alderaan.”

Another piece of evidence that yes, this _is_ his mother before him, and not just some Force trick. Kylo mentally notes that Leia can only be forgiving of one Skywalker at a time.

“I thought you two were working on things,” Kylo shakes his head, eyeing his grandfather. The man rolls his eyes, a kriffing mirror image of his daughter not three minutes earlier. 

“Working. Present tense.” Anakin mutters, crossing his arms, sulking in the background. 

“Inspiring,” Kylo can’t help but snort. If this was “better” between Anakin and Leia, what hope did he have?

“Ben Solo. Don’t take that tone with your grandfather.” Leia chided, already far too comfortable with the situation and it’s all too familiar. If his mother thinks that they can just snap at each other and then pretend all is fine and play tea party - just like his entire damned childhood - well, she has another thing coming to her.

“It’s Kylo, Mother. Kylo Ren. Ben Solo is dead. Gone. Your beloved _brother_ murdered him in his sleep. Secondly; oh, so now he’s my grandfather? Make up your mind, Mother. Is he Darth Vader or Anakin Skywalker?” The lie tastes sour on his tongue, as Kylo Ren knows damn well that Ben Solo’s alive and well but he’s not ready to let his mother know that.

Not yet.

Leia’s eyes narrow, ever so slightly. Kylo’s pushing all the right buttons and by the Force, how her son sounds just like his father right now. She almost tells him so, but bites her tongue, remembering why she’s here today. 

“Well, Kylo Ren, call yourself what you like, but my son’s alive and well and sitting before me right now,” she arches her eyebrow, looking him straight in the eyes as she does. “Second, he is your grandfather and he’s both and he’s trying to make amends, as am I, but that doesn’t mean its hard, and it doesn’t mean we’re not trying.”

The tiny general stares her skulking child down, claiming victory as he breaks away from her eyes first. Her smile isn’t gloating, instead its soft and gentle, sweet like he remembers.

“There’s been two generations of parents royally screwing up their children in this family, myself included. Your grandfather - Anakin - and I have a lot of ground to cover, but we are working on it. I didn’t want him here only because I wanted you to myself, at least for a little bit.” She hesitates, her eyes becoming glassy and Kylo thinks back to all those nights Han Solo made her cry. 

“Ben. How long has it been since its was just you and me?” 

For a second, he almost reminds her of the last time, when he was seventeen and she visited him at the Academy. Han was supposed to be there, of course, but he never turned up, as usual. Too busy conning and lying his way across the galaxy for his own son. 

But then he sees the intention behind her words, what she really meant. 

How long was Snoke there, twisting every word she said?

“Never,” he admits, his voice almost a whisper. He can’t bear to look at her, knowing that she’s slowly pressing her eyes shut, a defense mechanism to hide the pain of his admission. 

It takes her a moment to speak again, and when she does, her voice wavers.

“I had no idea it was so long, Ben. No clue. Had I known… had your father known…” Leia trails off, eyes distant as she considers her next words carefully. She sees the bleeding wound in her son’s soul, the way he covertly flinches when she mentioned Han. 

She plays absently with the top of her cane, and Kylo knows she’s resisting the call of twisting her wedding ring like she usually does when she’s nervous. His nerves are jagged, harsh. There’s guilt gnawing at his stomach and anger burning his skin, two conflicting halves warring for control. Rather than lash out, he breathes out through his nose, clenching his jaw, his fist, waiting instead.

Waiting for his mother to continue.

“I didn’t know Darth Vader was my father, or that Luke was my brother, until the Battle of Endor.” she says slowly, and it takes a second for Kylo to recognize exactly _when_ that was in the timeline of his family’s saga. 

“Luke told me, right before he went to face him and the Emperor. I knew Vader was his father, of course, but he told me his sister was strong with the Force too, and then - I knew. I just knew. And at first, all I could think was, I’m not alone anymore. I still have someone. I didn’t lose everyone on Alderaan.”

“But then,” her voice breaks a little here, and Kylo finds himself wanting to comfort her, “I realized that the person who took that all from me was my _father_. The very man who stood for everything I fought against. When Luke came back and told him Anakin Skywalker was redeemed, that he’d saved him, I thought he was being naive. A fool.”

“I never really dealt with it. Luke and I agreed to keep our lineage a secret, mostly out of self-preservation. We wanted the legacy of Darth Vader, of the Sith, to die. We were both so naive, so stupid.” Leia shakes her head, as if chiding her past self. 

“Luke wanted to train me. He wanted to make me a Jedi Knight also, show me the ways of the Force. But Luke was already so married to the old ways, and he wouldn’t consider that the Jedi may have possibly been mistaken in their practices. He told me that in order to do so, I’d have to give up Han. Give up you. I’d just learned I was pregnant with you, Ben, and I already loved you so, so much. I told Luke I could never give you up. Not in a million years. And besides, I had a government to rebuild, a Republic to restore. Frankly, in my mind, I hoped that Luke was the last Jedi. At least, the last Skywalker to be one.”

“I always found it curious that he didn’t push the matter,” Leia’s now closely examining the spirals of the pastry in front of her, her words calculated and low. It’s another one of his mother’s telltale signs of discomfort, and Kylo inadvertently leans closer. 

“Later on, he told me it was because he felt darkness around me, within me. He feared I’d answer the call of the Dark Side that beckons to our family so strongly. He had nightmares of me as Lady Vader. Of course, by the time he actually told me all this, you were joining his Academy and we suspected that someone was trying to lure you to the Dark. Luke was all too happy to blame it on that, but I…” she pauses, looking down at her tea as if drawing strength from it. 

“But I always knew the Darkness was mine, too.”

Of all the things Ben Solo expected his mother to say, this was not one of them. Hell, this was so far off the list that for a second, the Supreme Leader almost asks her to repeat herself, thinking he must’ve misheard. But the ashamed look in her eyes tells him his ears aren’t lying, and he keeps his mouth shut.

“That’s part of the reason why I was so willing to let him take you, Ben. I thought that if I could hear the call of the Dark Side, how could I ever protect you from it? You, who were already so powerful in the Force, and so tortured, so sensitive. My sweet boy. I’ve regretted it from the moment he took you away. I can’t tell you the number of times I started to comm Luke to tell him I was sending Han to come get you, to come take you home. But I kept telling myself that was the Dark trying to trick me. Trying to get to me to get to you. And Luke was so sure, so sure he’d save you… I thought I was saving you. Instead, he almost killed you. My son. My own son.” Leia’s voice breaks and there’s tears running down her cheeks, mirroring the ones on her son’s. 

“He was too chickenshit to even tell me himself. Just ran away, cutting himself off from everything rather than telling me the truth. If he had, I could’ve-“ at this, Leia falls silent, her shoulders heaving with sobs. 

Kylo knows what she was going to say: that she could’ve saved him, tracked him down, brought him home. 

“No,” he says morosely. “By then, I was too far gone.” 

“Ben,” Leia sobs, and suddenly, there’s one hundred and fifty pounds of Resistance general flinging herself over him, embracing him. She smells warm, like safety, a lullaby of sweet milk and spiced tea, and Ben Solo finds himself breathing in deep, taking in as much of her scent as he can. 

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” he asks once she’s pulled back, wiping away the tears from his eyes with her gnarled hands. He searches her eyes as she does, as if looking for an answer (like he didn’t already know what it was). Still, a part of him wants to hear it, needs to hear why.

“Because I was scared, Ben. I was so scared. You were my everything. And I was a coward.”

Slowly, Leia removes the gloves from Kylo’s hands, running her small fingers over the pale skin of his large palm like she’s memorizing it. There’s calluses there, new ones and new scars that she’s never seen; each one symbolizing the life he’s lived without her. 

She’s the first person to touch him other than Rey, and for some reason, that feels right to the former Jedi Killer.

“I didn’t want to face my darkness, Ben. I didn’t want to face my fears. I told myself I wasn’t ready, I told myself that I’d put you in danger, I told myself that instead, I could just make a better galaxy for you to inherit and everything would be fine. That it would all work out.”

There’s a sad smile as she wraps her bare hand around his. The kyber of her engagement ring flashes, an ever-present reminder of husband Kylo stole from her. 

“I lied to you. I lied to myself. I was lying to everyone. By pretending I wasn’t Vader’s daughter, by pretending I didn’t hear the darkness, I didn’t have to deal with all the junk that brought with it; with all the scars I pretended weren’t there.” Leia’s eyes drift to her son’s scarred face, one that makes him look even more roguish and handsome, she thinks. He’s got Skywalker hair and her eyes, but his nose, his jaw is all Solo. 

“You were wrong,” is all Ben can say, his own lips trembling from his mother’s soft touch. He closes his eyes, remembering the flashes of violence, of anger he’d seen in his mother growing up. How when he was threatened as a boy by a group of Imperial sympathizers she’d gunned them down, eyes promising death and destruction as she did. How his father spat at her during some fights, when she’d sunk a particularly painful verbal blow, _“Oh, there you go, Leia, there it is. That bit of your_ father _in you.”_

How some nights, he awoke to her screams as his father pled with her to wake from her nightmares, _“Leia, sweetheart, wake up! It’s okay, it’s okay, I’ve got you. He’s dead, princess. He’s dead and he can’t hurt you now.”_

“I know. I failed you, Ben. We all did. But I failed you the most. I should have talked to you, told you the truth. And I didn’t. That is my failure. No one else’s.” 

She looks like she wants to hug him again but Kylo can’t let her, not with her ring so hot against his scar, a burning reminder of what he did and so he pulls back, gently taking her by the shoulders.

He looks his mother in the eyes as he tells her, “But I killed him. I took him from you. Han Solo.” His words are choked, just like the feeling in his throat as he wills himself not to cry. 

“I know,” she whispers back, and she looks at him with such softness that it makes his vision swim. “I know you did. Just like I knew you were going to.”

Kylo blinks, looking at her with shocked, confused eyes. “Then why did you send him to me?”

“Because I had to try. We had to try. I think he knew, what was going to happen, how it was all going to end. Or maybe that’s me just telling myself nice little lies again to soothe my guilty conscience. Who knows?” Leia shakes her head, as if dispelling that tangent from her mind. 

“Either way, I forgive you, Ben. I forgive you. For all of it.” 

Kylo Ren thought he’d built tall barriers around his heart, around his soul, ones so strong that even a mother’s love couldn’t permeate. But those three words, spoken with such overwhelming love from Leia’s mouth, pierce through his walls like the First Order’s cannons on the Crait base’s blast doors. He crumples into her lap, sobbing deeply, whole body shuddering with each one. He can feel warm splashes on the back of his head, his neck, his mother’s own tears mixing with his own. 

When he runs out of tears, he hears her humming _Mirrorbright _ever so softly, her fingers brushing through his curls. It feels like home, her arms his fortress, and for the first time in years, Kylo Ren feels truly, absolutely _safe_.__

__“I want to show you something,” he asks after a few moments, sitting up to look at her (even though he really wanted to just stay there a little while longer. But this was important, and something he needed to do in case his mother never wakes from her coma). Kylo raises his hand, hovering beside her temple, waiting for his mother’s consent. There’s just the slightest moment of hesitation, of fear, before she squares her jaw and nods._ _

__Kylo’s not sure what he can and can’t do in this space, how much he can control it. So when he presses his hand against her soft skin, feeling her greying hairs tickle his palm, he draws her instead into his mind._ _

__Showing her his flight path over _Mirrorbright_. _ _

__He watches as she looks confused, at first, then almost distrustful at what she’s seeing. Once she hears Kittara’s soft gasp, sees Rey’s amazed eyes reflecting the purple peaks of Leia’s homeworld, an “oh!” of surprise escapes his mother’s lips. Leia’s eyes grow wet again, as she sees a place long forgotten, one that existed only in her memory unfold before her eyes. Ben doesn’t show her Miriam, as that might be too much, but he does show her the royal quarters they’ve taken up, from the Organa blue upholstery to the carved white walls._ _

__“Ben,” now its her voice quavering with emotion. “Ben, it’s beautiful.”_ _

__“I made it for you,” is all he can whisper back._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got the song "Once Upon a December" stuck in my head while writing Leia seeing Mirrorbright/Alderaan through Kylo's eyes and tell me that song's not perfect for that scene, right? (For the ten other _Anastasia_ fans out there). 
> 
> For clarification, as I got this question a lot: Leia is NOT dead. She's still in her coma. However, the place Kylo and Leia meet feels like some place between life and death, which is a metaphor for Leia being comatose (and thus, between the two). 
> 
> Now, for the real talk: I am so sorry for the late update, everyone. I tried to keep everyone posted on my Tumblr, and for those of you not following it, I am sorry too. I got incredibly sick this weekend with a stomach bug that's taken out half my department at work, one that I'm still getting over now. I couldn't really get much work done at all, which is why this was delayed and again, I'm sorry. I hate going off schedule and missing deadlines, but I also wasn't willing to put up a subpar, shitty chapter. (Leia deserves better and this was such an important, emotional scene for me.) Hopefully, the wait was worth it and you all are still here.


	27. Warrior

If there is one thing Rey knows she’s made for, it’s this, she thinks. She twists her body around, a sharp pirouette as she deflects her attacker’s blade with her own amethyst one. The song of battle, the blood cry, the electric hum of her saber cutting through atmosphere, the tension in her muscles as she delivers her blows, _this_ is what Jakku taught her, honed her body to be - an instrument of war, of death. 

The lithe former Jedi dances backwards, Terror’s practice swings literally keeping her on her toes. The Trooper’s bald head gleams with sweat, giant shoulders heaving with each breath as he analyzes what his next move should be. If Rey used the Force to reach into his mind, she’d see him appreciating her gracefulness in brawling, a deadly ballerina. 

He’s right to think this, of course. Rey’s never considered herself to be elegant in her movements, except when scavenging or fighting. There, she must be nimble on her feet, fluid in her limbs, like waves in the ocean: powerful and strong, yet still sleek, agile, a natural beauty in her strikes. It’s the same thing she’s thought of Kylo when she’s observed him fighting; and of course, this makes sense. After all, so many of Rey’s early moves were lifted directly from Kylo’s fighting style, blows and thrusts meant to showcase strength and force. 

But as time’s gone on, and with more practice against a wider range of people, Rey’s started to build her own style. It’s still built on the foundation Kylo’s given her, but there’s a bit of femininity in her steps now. It’s not the hip-swaying tango that Kittara fights with, but it’s womanly in its own way, aggression painted with a red lip. 

Terror drives his blade down over her, attempting to use his sheer strength and size as an advantage. He’s a quick learner, adapting to fighting with a saber well (in order to keep his cover as Force sensitive, and also, why not? It adds to his arsenal with a weapon he’ll always be around, especially if Kylo, Kittara or Rey are incapacitated). 

Rey blocks his strike easily, thrusting up to force his red lightsaber away. It would be easier to use the Force, of course, but Terror’d insisted early on that if he was using a lightsaber to spar, the jedi needed to even the field - and that meant no Force tricks. 

Rey’s grateful for the distraction of their fight, letting their training clear her mind of all the troubling thoughts that plagued her earlier in the day. She’d awoken this morning long before Kylo, their naked bodies entwined, and spent a good hour watching him toss and turn in his sleep. At first, she thought he was having a nightmare and tried to wake him, shaking him without avail. Slightly panicked, she’d even reached into his mind, only to find something powerful repelling her attempts to draw him back into consciousness. (Naturally, this caused more anxiety, at least until she heard a whispered, “Relax” across the Force and a glimpse into her lover’s dream, of Leia sitting at a table, serving _tea_ of all things.)

Skywalkers, Rey thinks with a snort. Always so kriffing over-the-top.

When Kylo finally woke, he seemed both tense and yet, slightly more at peace, all at the same time. If Rey wasn’t used to her dark prince being a constant walking contradiction, she probably would’ve been far more concerned. 

He’d tried opening up to her, of course, but it was hard for the both of them. Rey’s not one to really understand parent-child conflicts due to not having any, and she’s only able to see things from Kylo’s point of view thanks to their Bond. It’s as if she’s too close to the situation and yet not close enough (meaning she’s also become a walking contradiction, which is just bloody wonderful). 

However, the Supreme Leader desperately needed to talk to someone about whatever’d occurred between him and his estranged mother. Preferably someone who knew Kylo back when he was called Ben Solo, knew his past through their own personal knowledge and not just Kylo’s. So, Rey did the hard thing and sent him to Kittara Ren to talk things out. 

Rey’s dual sided saber sings as she spins it through the air, each purple beam blurring into a violent pinwheel. Her leg slides back as she prepares to charge Terror. 

She’s a little bit jealous of Kittara, yes, although not in the way she used to be, back when she thought Kittara was a romantic rival. Now, her envy comes from a far more selfish place, one of a woman who wants to satisfy every role for Kylo. But Rey knows that desire’s dangerous, _unhealthy_. It’s what lead to Anakin and Padmé’s downfall, their terrific co-dependency; and so she’d swallowed down the instinct to cocoon themselves away, relying only on each other. 

Letting Kittara help Kylo left Rey with a suddenly very open morning, something she’d realized after a quick trip to the ‘fresher and a rather solitary breakfast. At first, she’d visited the extensive library not far from her quarters, determined to educate herself on the worlds she’s now helping to govern. After all, this is her biggest area of insecurity, something that’s only magnified when the former Scavenger buries herself between books written in flowery, pretentious language. It overwhelms her self-taught reading skills, deflating any hope she had that she’ll ever be even slightly competent in the realm of politics. 

Thankfully, Terror had accompanied her to the library as part of her guard, Alpha and Omega choosing to remain outside. He’d tried very hard not to appear completely bored out of his mind while Rey studied. But as he observed the frustration building in Rey’s eyes and how she kept rubbing at her temples, he’d finally given in and asked if she’d like to take a break to spar together. 

The burly Trooper’s endeared himself to her, she thinks as she slices the air with her one blade, having split her saberstaff into two separate swords. He’d been the Trooper most leery of her, and vice versa; yet now, they seem to understand each other in a way Rey never expected.

She stalks toward him, his dark eyes watching her, waiting for her attack. It comes swiftly, Rey vaults over him, somersaulting through the air and landing behind him with a thump on the padded floors. She’s taken him by surprise with her gymnastic abilities, using moves that kept her alive in the desert.

This, she knows, is what she will always have, will always be able to offer. Her prowess as a warrior, her power in the Force. 

Before Terror can finish turning around to face her, she’s got her blades at his throat, locking him in place. 

“Yield,” she commands, and Terror does, only looking mildly perturbed as he drops his saber. It clicks off as it hits the ground, and Rey extinguishes both of hers, reconnecting them into her familiar staff.

Applause rings out from where Alpha and Omega sit, watching the show. There’s enough of the _Mirrorbright_ guards stationed at the outer doors that they’ve allowed themselves to relax a bit, giving most of their attention to the fight before them. Alpha’s even found a bag of popcorn, passing it back and forth between the pair as if they’re watching a holodrama. 

At the sound of the training room door hissing open, the bag’s tossed into a hidden corner between the wall and the cabinet. Rey resists frowning, hating to see food wasted but understanding the panicked action as Kylo and Kittara stride into the room. She can immediately sense Kylo's calm; meaning the talk has served him well. Even his body’s relaxed, shoulders less hunched and his pace smooth, not the agitated clip that he had earlier. He’s walking with a bit more confidence, those long strides of a Supreme Leader that makes his cape swirl behind him. 

For a second, Rey swears that he’s wearing a lighter shade of black, before shaking her head and telling herself how ridiculous that thought is. After all, black is only one shade, right? 

(Later, this will spark a debate between Kylo and Rey over whether or not there are different shades of black. It continues for three decades.)

“Damn, looks like we just missed the show,” Kittara grins, winking at Rey. “Unfortunately, and while I’d love to watch Round Two - or maybe participate myself - we have a communique from Our Friend.” Kittara’s tone is as pointed as her look, the implication obvious. “Our Friend” is the code word for Ahsoka, one only known to Kittara, Kylo and Rey. To Kylo’s guard it means to clear the room and secure the doors, making sure there are no interruptions or burning ears to eavesdrop. 

Terror, Alpha and Omega all reach for their helmets, jamming them atop their heads until they’re indistinguishable (other than Terror’s massively wide torso) as they make their way to the door. 

“Thanks, Terror!” Rey calls out as he hustles out the doorway. He acknowledges with a curt nod, fully back into his role of a soldier. 

There’s a flutter of black and warmth alerting Rey to Kylo siding up to her. He slips his gloved hand into hers, a greeting in his own subtle way. “I missed you,” the gentle squeeze of his fingers say, and she returns the gesture, telling him she missed him too. 

Kittara wastes no time, raising her toned arm and clicking something rectangular in her fist. There’s a burst of blue light, signaling the start of a holo-connection and cutting off any further conversation between Rey and Kylo. Rey tears her eyes away from Kylo’s to focus on the while-blue beam, whilst wishing he wasn’t wearing his gloves.

She already misses the feeling of his skin on hers. 

There’s a warble of static before Ahsoka’s face and upper half materializes in the air before them, the usual smirk playing across the Togruta’s terracotta lips. It’s a live connection, again, Ahsoka’s preferred way of teaching now that they’ve established a secure channel.

“Ah, my truant pupils,” she chides playfully, clucking her tongue. “Who would’ve thought galactic domination and family reunions would take up so much time?”

Out of the corner of her eye, Rey sees Kylo’s jaw twitch, a comeback burning at his lips. Through the Bond, she soothes him, urging him not to take offense at her light-hearted teasing. 

“I promise you, we haven’t been neglecting our lessons,” Rey says assuringly, ignoring the snort only she can hear in the back of her mind. 

At least Kylo’s gotten better at keeping a straight face, Rey thinks. (Who would’ve thought that there was a Solo out there that, at least for awhile, lacked anything resembling a poker face?)

_**I hardly think our “Bonding” activities are what Ahsoka had in mind.**_ She can feel him grinning despite his neutral expression, the entendre reverberating between them. 

_Please. If it works, it works, and we’ve certainly become closer, haven’t we?_ Rey retorts. 

This time, Kylo doesn’t catch his eyes in time and they start to roll, before freezing and returning to their prior position. 

“Mmm-hmm,” Ahsoka says with a raised eyebrow, dubious. “Well, then, I’m excited to see how you’ve both developed, my dears. So, then, Rey,” she focuses those crystal blue eyes on the tanned woman in front of her. 

“Tell me about your meditations.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rey’s that kid who hasn’t done any of the reading and just got called on in class. That’s what you get for raising your hand, girl! Rookie mistake. 
> 
> Thank you all for the well-wishes. I'm happy to report that I'm back to my normal, sarcastic self and feeling all better. I'm sorry for today being a shorter update without a lot of advancement, but since I was sick, I'm playing catch-up on work and writing. Plus, I feel like I've concentrated way too much on Kylo's emotional development, and wanted to dip into Rey's mind for a bit. She's doing so well on some things, but others... sigh. Sounds like she needs some confidence. Maybe a good, inspiring chat will help? But who could give her that?


	28. Good Intentions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey tries to explain to Ahsoka just exactly what she and Kylo have been studying. Then Ahsoka surprises them by pushing them to try something completely and totally new, testing their power and their limits.

“Tell me about your meditations,” Ahsoka leans back, as if settling into a chair. If Rey squinted, she’d be able to make out the lines of something thick and wooden behind her teacher, but the chestnut-haired jedi’s too busy panicking over being caught in her lie, having just assured Ahsoka that she and Kylo haven’t been neglecting their assignments. 

“Well, I, uh, we’ve been working on opening up and strengthening the Bond, and uh, going into, um, very focused states,” Rey bumbles, grasping desperately as she tries to find a far more polite way of saying that they’ve strengthened their connections by giving each other mind-blowing orgasms. 

Ahsoka responds by smacking her left hand against her forehead, squeezing her eyes shut as she does. She wonders, absently, just how naive her new students think she is, and whether they remember that she’s all too experienced with Skywalkers in love. 

After mentally counting to ten, she’s able to look back down upon the two jedi (little ‘j’, mind you) before her. At least Kylo Ren’s got the good sense to keep his eyes honed on the floor in front of him. Rey, however, stares at Ahsoka with a mixture of hope and pleading, her neck and chest flushing pink like her cheeks. 

“I said meditation, not blow jobs, and I really, really don’t want to know about that aspect of your lives. Got it?” 

Rey nods, feeling her blush deepen and no longer able to look her mentor in the eyes. There’s an arrow of smugness from Kylo, undoubtedly basking in being right, and Rey has to lock her arm in place to keep herself from elbowing him. 

“Yes, Ahsoka,” she mumbles instead.

“Have you both even tried meditating in the same room?” Frustration colors Ahsoka’s question, and Rey bites her lip, feeling guilty for letting her teacher down. 

“Of course we have,” Kylo snaps, temper flaring as he fights his own guilty conscience. “But I told you, it doesn’t work with us. Not like that. Our minds won’t let us, our bodies can’t unless we’re sparring. It’s not our fault we keep distracting each other.” The words tumble out before Kylo realizes just exactly how they sound, and now he’s the one fighting a red stain across his pale skin

“Oh, I can’t imagine why,” Kittara Ren snorts from behind the two, and Kylo whirls to face his best friend with a snarl.

Ahsoka sighs, starting another mental countdown. If there’s anything more emotional than a Skywalker, it’s a horny Skywalker, something the former Jedi’s learned from experience. 

‘Why me?’ she asks the Force in a silent plea.

“What? I’m just saying that you both wouldn’t be so ‘distracting’ to each other if you all didn’t just fuck it out of your system, already!”

“Kittara Ren, you forget your station,” Kylo began, his voice low and dangerous. 

“That’s enough,” Ahsoka’s command cuts through the tension between the Knights of Ren like a saber, stopping the fight before it can start. Once she’s regained the attention of all three (because apparently, Kittara’s auditing the course), Ahsoka continues, rubbing her temples as she speaks.

“I don’t doubt that hormones play a huge role in your diminished attention span; however, I am not one to decide when one is ready to engage in sexual intercourse, nor am I discussing this any further.”

“However, your Bond is stronger, I can see that even from here. Tell me, Rey, how much of Kylo’s emotions can you feel?”

Rey immediately perks up at the opportunity to redeem herself. “All of them. If the Bond is open on both ends, I can feel them like they’re my own. Sometimes, I can’t even tell the difference,” she admits sheepishly. “If we’re keeping it only partially open, like we usually do, they’re like echoes in my head. I can feel them now even when we’re not even in the same room, or on the same floor.” 

Kylo nods, and after a beat (as if hating to reveal anything so private) adds his own contribution. “It’s more than that,” Kylo admits, slowly. Ahsoka’s eyes swivel to the dark knight, imploring him to continue. “Rey and I can influence each other’s emotions, through the Bond. We’ve used it to calm each other down a few times.”

The old Togruta’s eyes widen first widen with surprise, then narrow with thought. “Hmm,” she hums aloud. “Interesting. Your Bond, and with it, your connection to the Force, is growing much faster than expected.”

“Is that… bad?” Rey asks hesitantly, concern flickering across her face. 

“Oh, no, my dear child,” Ahsoka chuckles, shaking her head back and forth and making one of her tails flip over her shoulder for a second. “Hardly. In fact, considering that we’re already crunched for time, this development is _very_ good, albeit unexpected.”

Rey’s lower lip springs out into a jubilant smile, the pink skin there raw from where she’d been worrying it with her teeth. Kylo can’t help but soften a bit as she beams at him proudly, confirming that yes, _they’d_ done something right. 

Together.

“Whatever you’re doing to help develop the trust between each other, to grow your Bond, keep doing it.” Ahsoka adds, leaving any questions as to what’s been so helpful completely and intentionally unasked.

Kylo ignores Kittara’s cough (really, a poorly disguised laugh), not allowing himself to lower himself to her level (even though Rey’s blushing a fierce pink and Kylo’s own cheeks feel slightly heated. Damn her to a Sarlacc pit.)

Instead, Kylo focuses on the thinly veiled urgency threaded into his mentor’s words.

“Ahsoka, what do you mean, we have a time crunch? Is something wrong?” There’s an instinctual need to protect her, his almost Master, one as old as padawans themselves. Then there’s the fact that trouble could endanger not just Ahsoka, but Rey, and himself, too, and Kylo feels his jaw twitch. 

“Well, for starters, I believe you two plan on some grand unveiling at Cantonica in what, five standard days?” She’s not asking, and now Kylo’s really concerned. 

“How do you know that?” he demands, and resists the urge to lash out at her projection with his saber when she giggles in response. 

After all, he’s still a… well, recovering Darksider? (‘Is that even a thing?’ he asks himself briefly)

“First of all, I’m hardly an idiot; nor am I new to intergalatic politics. After all, I spent a fair amount of time with your grandmother. I also still pay attention to the Holonews, and your planned summit has been dominating the talking heads segments. I put two and two together and got some … confirmation through the Force.” The last four words drip with hidden meaning, and a chill makes its way up Kylo’s spine as he wonders whether there’s a leak within their tightly knit team. 

He turns enough to shoot Kittara a curious and only mildly accusing look over his shoulder. The redhead responds with raised hands and an equally grim expression, eyebrows raised. ‘Not me,’ her body language screams, but he’s sure the Knight will immediately set out to find out who their leak is.

“Don’t worry, its not coming from within your Order. Trust me when I say its the Force, just… well, it’s the Force.” Ahsoka reassures them, noting the familial similarities in Kylo’s facial expressions. She swallows the sigh in her throat back down, as well as another one of her trademarked snippy comments. 

She’s learned when not to push too far; another lesson from decades of dealing with Skywalkers.

“But, I do know that there are those conspiring against you - both of you - in _and_ outside of the Order. The Summit will be very important, both to your success as rulers and in balancing the Force. We all must be careful, and we should all try to stay focused on the goal, here.” Cerulean eyes flicker to Kylo’s, locking with his. “You’re going to need all the allies you can get.”

“Now, on that note, I think we should skip ahead and try something. It might be a little premature, but I think it might work, considering how far you’ve both come.” The subject change is so fast, so abrupt that Kylo doesn’t have a chance to ask her what, exactly, the former Jedi Knight meant. He’s so deep into reading into her words, and whether or not Ahsoka’s found a way to eavesdrop on their conversations, that he completely misses her next few sentences. Only when there’s a flare of anxiety and trepidation from Rey’s side of the Bond does he snap back to attention. 

Ahsoka’s years of Skywalker-related experience haven’t taught her the signs of an all-consuming Kylo Ren internal dialogue, or that such musing may result in the Supreme Leader completely missing important, key instructions. As a result, she only returns his poorly masked look of confusion, thinking it to be him reacting to her plan. 

Luckily, roughly four months of knowing (and being Force-bonded to) Kylo Ren gives Rey the necessary foundation to know just what’s gone on. The brunette resists the urge to roll her eyes at her lover, and spares him the embarrassment of being openly called out. 

_She wants us to try to balance ourselves. Now. Take in both sides of the Force._

Rey’s explanation forms a knot in Kylo’s stomach, tight and twisting the bottom of his esophagus. Something inside him whispers that he’s not ready to invite in that much of the Light, not yet. Even the infernal, unextinguishable flame of Light inside him seems to recoil at the idea, and the twisted interpretation of the Force called the Dark Side whispers that he cannot do this, he cannot trust it. That he’s going to fail at this miserably, and let them all down, disappoint them as he always does.

Neither the former Scavenger or the lost prince of Alderaan voice these concerns. Instead, they numbly take the seated positions across from each other that Ahsoka requires, crossing their legs obediently. They close their eyes, resisting the urge to clamp them shut tightly as Ahsoka instructs them to relax. 

“Let go of your fears. Failure isn’t the end of the world,” she coos, attempting to reassure them. Only Kittara can see the slight frown pulling on the corners of her mauve lips, the flicker of apprehension as she takes in the fearful expressions written across her students’ faces. 

Perhaps its her students’ rapid progression that makes her overconfident, or maybe its her own desire for self-preservation. Regardless of the reason, the Togruta pushes forward, furrowing her painted brow as she fixes her gaze on Rey. 

Of the pair, Rey appeared to be the more relaxed (which was saying something); and based off Ahsoka’s observations, she felt the younger jedi might be more less resistant towards opening herself up completely. She knew Rey’d tapped into the alleged “Dark Side” before, albeit unintentionally, but given this - and the fact that Rey carried far, far less baggage than her brooding paramour - Ahsoka figures to start with the young woman.

“Rey. I want you to lower your shields - open yourself completely to the Force. Let it flow through you, unimpeded. Breathe deeply as you do.”

With a deep, resolved breath and her subconscious whispering, “here goes nothing,” Rey allows her shields to fall, feeling the familiar pleasant rush of power, of _life_ humming from her fingertips into her veins. Senses heightened, she breathes in and senses every being on the station, the joyful play of the officers’ children, the resolved obedience of the Troopers stationed in the docking bay, the spark of new life as a child was born in the city hospital. Her blood thrums with the same electric current humming through the artificial planet, drawn from nearby stars. Her body is alight, warm and _thriving_ , much like that first time she connected with the Force on Ahch-To. 

But as she approaches the familiar feelings of cold, the feelings of loss, of fear, of anger - a feuding couple, the sucking void of space, the chestnut haired woman doesn’t approach it with the same fearlessness that she did back at the first Jedi temple. Instead, apprehension slows her approach, catching her breath in her throat and constricting her heart in her chest. Despite her earlier musings on Kylo’s Coruscanti balcony, the haze of fine wine making her overconfident, Rey feels terrified to invite what she’s been taught to be the Darkness in. Perhaps it’s because this time, she’s willingly not just opening up to it, but inviting it in, consciously making it hers. Or perhaps she’s scarred from her possession on Mustafar, the fleeting memory of being controlled by sulfuric rage and molten loss making her reluctant to fling open the door. 

Whatever the reason, there’s a piece of Rey that refuses to succumb, to allow itself to accept or even taste the black cold that seeps into her bones. This secret part locks itself away tight, burying itself deep as if to hide from the Darkness. Its preparations are all for naught, the creeping, oily slick seizing up into a powerful tsunami that barrels right for it; slamming into the fortified stone of her fear. It bangs against them, demanding entrance, screaming for her surrender. 

In hindsight, Rey will come to understand that this was the Force seeking its balance, desperate and raw. But in this moment, all she feels is everything Luke ever warned about, all the monsters in the night she’s always protected herself from.

The screams in her head are so loud her ears are ringing, and she barely hears Ahsoka trying to relax Kylo to open himself. She can’t help but feel a glimmer of hope that when he does, the assault will back off, that maybe the Darkness will turn to him before recoiling in horror at her thoughts.

Either way, Kylo opening does not lessen the assault on Rey’s psyche. If anything, the prospect of losing Kylo to the Light makes the Dark in Rey more desperate as it ramps up its violence on her very core. As his defenses lower the howling in her head only grows. It’s so loud she feels her teeth rattling, and she tastes metal on her tongue. Blood, she thinks, and her soul aches as she feels pain and fear flooding the Bond from Kylo’s side. 

‘This isn’t working,’ she knows, and something tells her, screams at her to stop this now, before someone gets hurt. 

‘It’s too late for that,’ she thinks, and the Force seems to reverberate in agreement. Before Rey can even ask what that means, there’s a blinding flash of ultraviolet before her closed eyes and a final shriek.

It feels like she’s flying. The thought crosses her mind right before her body slams into the unpadded upper wall of the training room. Her head and shoulders smack into the unforgiving cold of durasteel, making her eyes fly open in shock. Her vision swims and she’s briefly able to make out Kylo’s figure doing the same thing into the opposite wall, his arm outstretched as if reaching for her. 

Blackness eats into the corners of her eyes and Rey’s head grows hazy with each throb of pain. As consciousness slips away, she’s able to give a soft pull on her end of the Bond, both seeking and giving reassurance to the stilling man across the room. 

She doesn’t let the haze overtake her till she feels him tug back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kittara Ren is speaking all of our minds here, right?
> 
> Okay, on to the more serious notes. First, thank you to everyone who stuck around, even after last week's break in posting. For those of you who didn't see the announcement on my Tumblr, my husband surprised me with a last minute beach getaway, something which was very, very needed. While there, my subconscious (and the Mai Tais) morphed into Donna from _Parks and Rec_ , convincing me to treat myself to a weekend of R&R. I'm sorry for the sudden and unscheduled break, but on the upside, it recharged my batteries, creatively and physically, giving me and this fic new life. 
> 
> This was also pretty essential because I was having some serious self-doubt after the last chapter. I know you guys hear it all the time, but comments and kudos are what authors live for on AO3, and even though I try not to get too invested in the kudos count and how many comments I get, I still... do. (Pride is a dangerous beast.) For that reason, I want to give All_the_Feels a major shoutout for leaving some seriously needed love that made me put my big girl pants back on and stop brooding like Kylo Ren. Thank you so much to All_the_Feels and everyone else who takes the time to comment, share and send some love on this fic. Y'all are all too good to me and the reason I keep going. :)
> 
> Finally, I'm thinking about changing the posting schedules to Mondays, and would love any thoughts on that. My reasoning is that I don't get as much writing done during the week, meaning I'm often scrambling to write and edit and post on Sundays. The length (and sometimes the quality) of the chapters suffer as a result, and I feel stressed all day; or I stay up super late and go to work Monday looking like a zombie. OTOH, I worry that as the Procrastination Queen, I will only put off writing until late Sunday night, because yay, ADHD. Either way, I'd love to know if anyone has any thoughts on this or would hate to see a move to Monday. Feel free to chime off in the comments!


	29. Ultraviolet (is a wicked spell)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey and Kylo grapple with the fallout of their failure to balance the Force, and Rey learns one of Kittara's secrets - as well as her connection to Ahsoka Tano. Meanwhile, Ahsoka gets a visit from an old friend.

Someone is talking.

The voice is far away, muddled, as if Rey’s underwater and so are they, which makes zero sense since Rey can feel her fingers and they don’t feel wet. 

Her head throbs. She can already feel the knot on the back of her skull forming from where she hit… _something_.

She remembers, briefly, trying to piece together what happened to her through the haze of a mild concussion. 

Attempting to balance, and failing terribly. 

The gnashing black teeth of what she thought was darkness, scratching at her walls and begging to be given full access to her, her light.

(Or were they actually fingers, and not that dark but more gray than she’d realized? And were those violent snaps of its jaw really the desperate clawing of a deprived, lost being? Now, here, outside and with the power of foresight, Rey’s filled with doubt at her own memories, her own emotions.)

The depth of their failure sinks in, at the same time she recalls an ultraviolet streak of power and then flying towards a wall, hitting it (ergo, concussion) and checking on Kylo via the Bond before she passed out. 

_Kylo._

Rey attempts to open her eyes, needing to see him, find him, but her eyelids are lead and any attempts to open them makes the world spin like an out of control TIE fighter. 

There’s a gentle flutter in the Bond, and she knows its Kylo, telling her he’s still here.

“-overstepped your boundaries-“ 

That voice. Female, still almost girlish, but cutting and annoyed enough to only be one person. 

Ahsoka. 

“- if I recall correctly, _Jedi_ -“ 

Venom and heat, fierce protectiveness like a mother loth-cat protecting her young. Kittara Ren, Rey recognizes her voice, that tone. 

The former last Jedi rests her cheek on the cool matted floor as their words grow sharper, clearer. 

“I did not invite you to sit in and observe for you to interfere!” Ahsoka’s voice sounds less garbled, only slightly muffled, like there’s cotton stuffed in Rey’s ears. If Rey could move her arms, she’d thrust her finger into her canals to clear it out (even though she knows she wouldn’t find any white puffs there).

Luckily, a Scavenger’s used to dealing with mild brain injuries, and she knows not to push herself too hard, too fast. Instead, she keeps lying there, listening. 

“No,” Kittara’s voice is low, ultraviolet like her Force signature, and there’s a step of her heel clacking against the ground. “You told me to stay and be ready in case things went wrong. I’d say I did exactly that.”

“I had everything under control-“

“No, you did not!” Kittara snaps, and there’s silence for a minute. Rey wonders if one of the two women disconnected the Holofeed, before she hears Ahsoka’s voice again, small and contrite. 

“You’re right,” the Togruta sighs. “I pushed them too far. I knew I shouldn’t. I just - we don’t have time-“

“We have as much time as we need, Master Tano. They’ll get it.” The deference in Kittara’s voice marks a shift in her approach, mirroring Ahsoka’s. 

Rey thinks its odd to hear Kittara call Ahsoka “Master.”

It pricks at her mind, making the wheels start to spin anew.

“I don’t understand, how, why they can trust each other, but not themselves.” There’s frustration in her teacher’s voice, and Rey feels the stinging bite of tears as she registers just how much she’s disappointed the last person to teach her.

Again. 

‘No, not the _last_ teacher,’ her mind reminds her, recalling how she’s pulled so many of her skills from Kylo himself. 

“Stop saying that,” Kittara huffs.

“It’s true!” Rey cracks her left eye open enough to see Ahsoka throwing her hands in the air, pacing in front of her Holocomm. She goes to open her mouth but her tongue’s so parched that her lips feel sticky, as if she’d collapsed back in the sands of Jakku. 

“No, it’s not. They do trust themselves, just as much as they trust each other. They trust themselves to keep them alive. After all, that’s all they’ve been doing for what, the last twenty years?” Ahsoka stills, stopping almost mid-step as she narrows her eyes at the Knight of Ren, almost skeptically. 

Kittara continues, “The problem is you forget that. You forget that its not themselves that they cannot trust; it’s the galaxy, the universe that’s taught them to never let their guards down, never relax. You’re asking them to forget the scars that they’ve earned from trusting the outside, the world, and that’s not fair to ask them.” Kittara pauses, her voice dropping to a near whisper. “It’s not fair to ask any of us.”

There’s a connection in Rey’s mind, to the way they talk and the stories she’s heard about Kittara’s time during her sabbatical from the First Order. 

How she moonlighted as an assassin, sometimes a bounty hunter, but that never explained how, or _why_ Ahsoka Tano entrusted her with the Holochrons containing her lessons - or the circumstances surrounding their acquaintanceship. Nor had Kittara ever addressed why her Force signature was layers of bright amethyst, almost white-gray around the edges and surrounded in electric black. 

As if she’d attempted to balance her own internal chaos, and failed miserably. 

_**Because the Force can’t be balanced until we are.** _

The return of Kylo’s deep timbre in Rey’s head soothes her raw nerves like a warm hand stroking her back, and she wants to nestle into his warmth. Instead, she runs a slightly wet tongue along her lips, wetting them with a groan. 

“I- I need to meditate. Take care of them. Tell them - I’m sorry.” Ahsoka sounds choked, as if she’s fighting back tears of regret. Rey wants to tell her she doesn’t need to apologize, that she was trying her best just like they all were but the words don’t come.

By the time Rey’s heaved herself up onto her wrists, Ahsoka’s cut the connection. There’s a flutter of black thermawool around her and the cool touch of Kittara’s palm against the throbbing bump in her head. 

“Hey, careful. You got a good egg forming back there.”

It’s the most tender Rey’s ever heard Kittara Ren, and she turns her eyes to look into the other woman’s. Her concern is obvious, with a little bit of guilt too, Rey thinks as Kittara bites her lower lip. It leaves a half-moon indented into her crimson lipstick, soft pink peeking through the red. 

“Ughhhh” is all that comes out of Rey’s mouth, and Kittara gently moves her into a sitting position. There’s some shuffling, and then somehow (using the Force, undoubtedly), Kittara’s leaning Kylo up against Rey’s left, letting them lean into each other for support as their brains continue the rebooting process. 

“Who’s Supreme Leader?” Kittara asks after a moment. There’s a groan, and then Kylo answers. 

“I am.”

“Good. Rey, how many fingers?” The room only shifts slightly as Rey focuses on the three dainty digits Kittara’s holding up. It’s the first time Rey’s seen her without gloves, and she notes that her nails are painted gold. 

“Three,” she rasps, and then, “Water.”

Kittara turns and barks an order to a nearby droid. Before long, she’s being handed a glass bottle filled with freshly sterilized dihydrogen monoxide. It’s cool and clean on her tongue, chasing out the cobwebs strung across her throat. 

In the meantime, Kittara runs a handheld medical scanner over them. The gadget’s almost silent except for the slightest whir of machinery, punctuated by a series of quick beeps, signifying a normal reading. 

“See, we’re fine,” Kylo grunts, although there’s an undercurrent of gratitude in his voice. 

“You both need to take it easy today. I can’t have a concussed Supreme Leader and his Jedi queen wandering around.” Kittara says flippantly, disguising her obvious concern. Rey’s learned by now that both Kittara and Kylo prefer sarcasm as their preferred coping mechanism; as well as Kittara’s obvious discomfort with anything _emotional_.

For these reasons, Rey knows she should shoot back some smart remark about how she’s not a Jedi or Kylo’s Jedi queen, or maybe even how Kittara was just trying to encourage them to do anything but take it _easy_ today. But there’s that nagging suspicion in the back of her mind, mixing with her own feelings of failure to congeal into something gelatinous in her stomach, a need to know, to no longer allow the Counsel to hide behind her snark.

“You tried to balance yourself,” Rey’s voice wobbles slightly as she says it, and she feels the flare of concern from Kylo. She can hear him ask himself “why?” followed by “she could’ve just asked me”, but they both know that it’s not Kylo’s story to tell. 

Nevertheless, they both brace themselves.

Curiously, there’s no immediate reproach flung from Kittara’s lips, nor does she pull her typical move of walking away, cape snapping as she mutters something about “nosy-ass Jedi”. Instead, an internal struggle plays out in her eyes, before she sighs a curse under her breath.

“I did,” she admits, resignation slumping her shoulders.

“It didn’t work,” Rey prods.

“Clearly.”

There’s a pause, and Rey can practically hear Kylo praying to whatever gods are out there that Rey’s done pushing the Knight’s boundaries.

Rey is not done. “Ahsoka tried to help you.”

“No.” This comes more of a rebuke, but then Kittara’s tone softens, as if realizing that she has no need to be protective of the former Jedi here, not with them. “No, she didn’t try to help me with that. She taught me how to try to walk more in the gray, yes. But she very strongly discouraged me from trying to balance myself.”

“She told you it couldn’t be done.”

“She told me the Force was too unstable to allow it. That I’d only drive myself further into the Dark, or I might go insane.”

“And it was door # 1 for you.”

“I’m pleased that I’ve hid my insanity so well. I deserve an award.”

At this, Rey can’t help but crack a grin, flashing it right at Kittara. The redhead smirks back, glad to have broken the tension somewhat. 

“Why’d you try then?” Rey asks, and Kittara doesn’t answer, at least not with her words. Her eyes, though, trail over to her lifelong friend, the man she’d sworn to protect, and they say everything.

 _ **To protect me. To help me. To try to spare me.**_ There’s a bit of frustration coloring Ben’s tone, and Rey remembers that she’s not the only one feeling like a failure. 

“You didn’t fail. Neither of you did.” Kittara’s voice is iron masked in velvet, her tone soft but sure. 

“You can hear us?” Rey gapes, and the other woman chuckles with a shake of her head.

“I can read emotions, remember? That’s all I need.”

“Oh,” Rey says, cheeks burning. “Right.”

“No worries, concussions do that.” Kittara teases, before shifting back to the subject before. “Ahsoka knew it was too soon to push you both to try to balance. I know we’re all working against time here, but she forgets the thing she told me after I tried: _we must trust in the Force._ It will come in time. It will happen when it needs to happen. I trust it, as I trust you both.”

Kittara’s firm, resolute, and Rey takes another long sip of water, unable to respond. 

She can only hope Kittara’s right. 

——————————————

Well, _that_ went swimmingly, Ahsoka Tano thinks morosely as she pours herself a glass of her favorite Corellian whiskey. She’d felt so confident, so sure that today was the day - or at least, as confident as she thought she’d get, and now that’s all been blown to Hell.

She’s probably set Rey and Kylo back (both emotionally and in the Force) by pushing them, as well as the strong possibility that she’d just given the two most important people in the galaxy traumatic brain injuries. Even worse, Ahsoka knows they’ll blame themselves, and instead of staying to comfort them, she’d turned lekku and run like a coward. 

After, of course, trying to point the finger at her original student, the already conflicted Kittara Ren, who really had just done the right thing. Had Kittara not stepped in…

Ahsoka’s eyes sting with tears, and she squeezes them shut. Here she is, seventy-two years old and still rushing headfirst into things like a padawan. 

“Fuck,” she mutters out loud, swiping her arm across her eyes. 

“That’s always been our problem though, Snips. We’re impatient, we rush in half-cocked, because we want to make it all right.” The voice startles the Togruta, so much that she almost spills the contents of her glass tumbler as she jolts forward with a gasp. She blinks a few times, disbelieving, as she takes in the blue-white glow of the man before her. 

“Master,” she breathes, old habits dying hard.

“Oh, come on, I think you’ve earned the right to drop that title. After all, you’re the teacher now.” Anakin Skywalker grins, that soft teasing tone painfully familiar to Ahsoka Tano.

“Yeah? Some teacher I am,” she grumbles, focusing on the swirling amber of her whiskey. She doesn’t have to look at her visitor to see his eyeroll, familiarity with his mannerisms unfaded by the years. 

By their battles. 

“Every teacher makes mistakes, Ahsoka. The good ones learn from them.”

“You sound like Obi-Wan.” That earns a hearty chuckle from the former Sith Lord, and he sounds heartbreakingly young, Ahsoka thinks. Like he’d never fallen, never walked as Darth Vader. He’s chosen to appear as he looked before, like he really had died on Mustafar. Although, there are little tell-tale signs that she notices as she examines his ghostly form: his eyes sometimes look as if they’re rimmed in ochre, and there are little gold flecks floating in his blue irises that shimmer in the low light of her gas-fueled lamps. Then there’s that slight smell of char, one she’s learned to associate with him from their usual communications through dreams. 

“I told you it was too soon,” Anakin begins, interrupting her reverie.

“We don’t have time to wait,” Ahsoka protests. “Things are moving, things are happening and they are at risk. We all are.”

“We don’t have a choice, I told you that.” Anakin sighs, and sinks into the chair across from her, making himself at home in her humble abode. “We must be patient. Rushing them will only guarantee failure.”

“And what if they die before they’re done working through… whatever it is they’re working through! They’re scarred, both of them, it’s going to take years-“

“It won’t.”

“How do you know? How can you be so bloody calm about all this? I thought you wanted this too! Isn’t that why you came to me, asked me to guide them?” Ahsoka’s frustration breaks through, her anger at herself eager to be remade into barbs directed at someone else. 

For a second, Ahsoka swears she sees a hint of red mixing with the blue aura surrounding her Master, and his eyes turn slightly more flaxen. A shiver draws up her spine, and Ahsoka finds herself drawing back, tensing, muscle memory taking over. 

“Of course I want this. Of course I care. This is my grandson, we’re talking about.” Anakin’s voice is low, deep, and there’s a moment where he catches himself, taking a deep breath in and holding it before exhaling.

“My apologies. It appears the failed attempt has made the Force more reactive to emotions.” His eyes shine true again, his voice back to normal. Ahsoka feels her coiled ligaments relaxing in kind.

“Great. Well, at least that might help them get _one thing_ out of their system.” Ahsoka can’t help but mutter, forgetting momentarily that Anakin Skywalker might not appreciate the insinuation that his grandson really needed to get laid. The blond man blanches, eyes almost bugging out of their sockets before he devolves into a coughing fit, choking on his own saliva. 

“Serves you right for killing me,” Ahsoka can’t help but snap back, and Anakin laughs, her comment breaking the awkwardness between them.

“Oh, Snips, never change,” he sighs, and Ahsoka detects something that sounds close to happiness in his voice. 

“Same to you, Skyguy,” she retorts, and it feels like they’re teenagers again, master and padawan gearing up for another grand adventure.

Saving the galaxy again, one last time. 

———————————————

Rey finds Kylo pacing wildly across their chambers, jaw clenching and unclenching as he walks. She’s sopping wet from her time in the ‘fresher, water dripping off her body and onto the floor as she clutches the black towel around her torso. She’d spent the afternoon learning about the different planets at play from Kittara Ren, a vital part of her preparation for the Cantonica summit. After that, Rey’d desperately needed some alone time, seeking it in the hydro shower of her ‘fresher. The hot water helped ease the soreness out of her bones, making her feel whole again and chasing away the last bits of her headache from the morning. 

In hindsight, Rey regrets her insistence they continue with her studies as planned, despite her still muddled state. She hopes she retained _something_ from today’s lessons. 

Otherwise, she’ll have to listen to Kittara triumphing in being right again, and that just wouldn’t do. 

“What’s wrong?” she asks the towering human ball of tension before her. Kylo jumps, so caught up in his thoughts that he hadn’t even heard her leave the ‘fresher. 

Then his dark eyes rove over her, slowly, sinfully, taking in her barely covered body, hair still slicked from her shower. HIs pupils blow wide and his jaw relaxes.

Rey’s barely able to gasp his name in protest before he’s stalked over to her on those long legs of his, gathering her up into his arms and crushing his lips to her. His kiss is rough, needy, demanding, his tongue slipping into her mouth. It’s all Rey can do to remember to keep the towel wrapped around her hand as he bends her backwards, taking all he can.

“Ben,” she inhales when his lips break away, kissing her jaw, her neck. “Ben,” she tries again, gently shoving against his mass with her free hand. Then he slants his mouth back over hers, silencing her again. He sucks her lower lip between his teeth and Rey can’t help but moan at the feeling, struggling to remain focused against the tide of desire. 

“Kylo,” she admonishes, pulling as far away from his mouth as she’s able. His arms are like a vise, and he releases her bottom lip with a smack. She knows its bruised, tender, she can feel it, but at least she can talk now. “What’s wrong?”

Rey watches as her words finally permeate through the haze of lust addling his mind, though his eyes remain dark and he doesn’t loosen his grip. She’s complimented by the effect she has on him, this man driven to distraction over something as silly as her in a towel. 

However, it can be incredibly inconvenient when she needs him to focus. 

“Kittara’s going on a mission tonight. Alone.” He finally mutters, resting his head in the curve of her shoulder. 

“What? Why? Where?” Her questions ring with alarm, now understanding the reason for her lover’s anxiety. “What about Hux?”

“It’s deep undercover, and Kittara’s very good at moving undetected. Ahsoka recommended it, tipped her off in regards to a potential ally - an old family friend.” Kylo’s lips tickle Rey’s clavicle as she speaks, and it makes her skin prickle with electricity. Rey swallows, trying to move the sensitive spot away but Kylo’s not letting her. 

She swears she feels his lips curving into a smirk. 

Asshole.

“And Hux? Why isn’t she taking Beta and Omega?” Rey demands, trying very hard to sound anything but distracted. 

“First, they need to stay here, with us. Second, the more people, the more likely they’d be detected. Kittara will be in neutral territory - smuggler territory, actually. She’s familiar with that lot, can move there easily and will be back before morning.” Kylo punctuates this with a kiss against her neck, right where her trapezius slopes into her shoulder and Rey shivers. “Besides, Kittara’s on far better terms than I am with this friend.”

The way Kylo says “friend” is laden with implications, and Rey sees a glimpse of Han Solo across the Bond. 

“But Ahsoka - after this morning -“

“She made a mistake, we all do. Kittara trusts her, and I trust Kittara.” Kylo’s words come slowly, and Rey realizes he’s working through his own concerns by reassuring her. It feels nice, and right, like what couples should do, his growing confidence putting her mind _mostly_ at ease. 

His hand slowly slips up her legs, brushing against her knee before resting against the top of her thigh. He leaves a wake of chillbumps, her wet skin oh so sensitive to his touch. Rey blushes, knowing he must feel the heat emanating from her folds, slightly ashamed at how aroused he made her with touches that were borderline innocent. 

“Never be ashamed of that, my love,” Kylo purrs in her ear, pulling her insecurities from her mind like they’re his own. His voice is sin, Rey thinks as her eyes flutter closed.

“Wait,” she blinks them back open, pulling away again. This time, she’s slightly more successful, drawing her throat away from Kylo’s hovering lips. His large palm grips her thigh more tightly, and the arm looped around her back locks her in place. “I thought you were meeting with your - with Han tonight.”

There’s a flicker of guilt on his face, and Rey thinks he’s about to let her go, but his hold stays firm. He blinks, as if banishing any unwelcome feelings from his mind.

“It’s not happening tonight. The Force is too unstable, too volatile right now for that to be a good idea.” He doesn’t ask if Rey can sense it, because their Bond’s already told him she does. The Force feels like a bow drawn tight, ready to unleash the arrow in its string and heightening their emotions. 

It was part of the reason Rey insisted she stay with Kittara. Not to keep the Knight of Ren subdued, but to keep Rey from locking herself in their chambers with Kylo and spending the day in bed. 

“Mmm, I wish you had,” Kylo sucks at her throat, his voice black velvet and making her insides coil. She tilts her head back, granting him access to her jugular as he makes his way to her mouth, nipping as he goes. He hesitates above her lips, and Rey opens her eyes to gaze into his, hazel and amber clashing together.

He searches her for a moment, reading her thoughts, her desires, waiting for her. He finally sees it, what he needs, what he’s been looking for, the unspoken yes clear in her mind. 

Kylo kisses her again, just as deep as before but with more tenderness now, pouring his intentions into it. They have all night, he thinks, and he knows how he’s going to spend this rare reprieve. 

He’s been waiting his whole life for this moment, and nothing’s going to get in their way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm pretty sure that's the cruelest cliffhanger I've ever written. *dodges thrown tomatoes* 
> 
> Before I get to my announcements/real chapter notes: I just want to thank everyone for leaving all the love and support in your comments, kudos, shares and bookmarks on the last chapter. I hate laying out my insecurities, but you all made me feel so loved, welcomed, and supported. You're all truly wonderful, and I'm truly lucky to have each and every one of you as readers. <3 I'm excited to wrap this fic up and give you all the conclusion you've been waiting for!
> 
> Announcement: Next week's update is coming next Monday, as I'm gonna try out a Monday posting schedule. We'll see how it works, and if it does, I'll be sticking with Monday updates from now on. (More on this [here](https://itsalilah.tumblr.com/post/177415336316/safe-harbor-fyi).) Thank you all for leaving such great feedback on making the switch, sometimes, I just need people to get me out of my own head. As always, any impromptu schedule changes will be announced on my tumblr.
> 
> Remaining chapter notes: When I started writing this fic, I wondered why the Hell Kylo Ren would ever trust Ahsoka Tano's offer to teach him the gray, and what would motivate such a move on her end. Kylo, after all, has no reason to trust any teachers, given that Luke tried to kill him and Snoke was a sadistic, predatory and abusive fuckface. This is why Kittara was originally created, and she was supposed to be a lot more gray than she turned out to be: as a trusted connection between Kylo and Ahsoka. Ahsoka was always going to be guided by Anakin, because I like the idea of them teaming up one last time (and the symbolism of two "fallen" Jedi being the ones to really lay the foundations for balance). Ironically, revealing this made me break my promise of not writing any scenes that aren't narrated by Rey or Kylo for a second time, because I really needed this part to be told by Ahsoka. 
> 
> This also reveals just how *big* Kylo and Rey's task is, and the price of failure, as literally no one else can bring balance to the Force. No one can truly operate as a truly balanced, gray jedi until they do - the imbalance is so significant that it requires the two most powerful Force users in the galaxy to rectify it. No pressure, guys. 
> 
> Next week: We pick up where we left off, and I do mean where we left off. *eyebrow waggle* That's right, kids, it's the Smuttening, pt. 5 - unless someone finds a way to cockblock our heroes *again*. Meanwhile, Kittara meets with an old friend of the Organa-Solos. But will she be successful in remaining undetected?


	30. So It Goes...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey and Kylo finally have a night alone, and plan to use it to take their relationship to a whole new level. But the universe isn't stopping for these two lovebirds, not even for one night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **ATTENTION READERS!!!!**   
>  **This here section contains smut, meaning explicit sexual content lies ahead. If you are not of age, or do not want to read it, cut to the _solid dotted line_ running across the page and read what's below it for non-smut plot advancement. Continuing to read from the top implies consent to reading said smut, and that you're old enough to do so. Capeesh?**

Rey’s only half-aware that they’re moving, Kylo gently pushing her backwards as their tongues dance with each other to a slow, seductive tune. Its not long before the back of her legs hit something soft and square ( ~~his~~ _their_ bed), and she can feel his lips twist into a smirk. 

His hands are on her shoulders, now, so he can lean into her with just enough of his weight to tip her back, onto their mattress. The back of her bare legs rub against the cool fabric of their comforter as the heat inside her only grows. 

It occurs to Rey that she’s still only wearing her towel, and Kylo’s fully dressed, making them imbalanced.

_Force_ , is she tired of feeling unbalanced. 

Rey’s hands fly to Kylo’s chest, searching for the hidden clasps of his surcoat. They roam with a scavenger’s precision, making quick work of the hooks and buttons. As she does, their mouths continue to clash. The tempo of their kisses speeds up, desperation and _need_ feeding what started as slow and sensuous into a wildfire, scorching and bright. 

Rey pulls Ben down on the bed on top of her, pushing his coat over his shoulders before realizing she can’t get it off with his arms pressed down, keeping his weight off her. She growls, frustrated, and there’s a flare of amusement from Kylo. Then he’s flipping them so he’s sitting on the bed with her in his lap, his erection pressing up against her inner thigh. So close, so very close and yet not close enough till she shifts, pressing her bare folds against his leather encased cock. 

Both of them moan, and Rey’s finally able to free Ben of his surcoat. She makes quick work of his undershirts ( _always so many damn clothes_ ), yanking them up his torso in one swift motion. Kylo breaks their kiss away from hers long enough for her to pull the bunched fabric over his head, but only that, his lips resuming their relentless assault on hers in an instant. 

They may have failed in balancing the Force, Rey thinks, but they have this, now, here, and perhaps they can find some equilibrium, giving each other the last, guarded pieces of their souls and bodies. 

Kylo hears this, there being no barriers between their minds, and kisses her harder, twisting one hand into her hair. Rey practically purrs in response, sliding her wet outer lips along the slick leather of his pants, craving friction and _more_. He responds by chasing her hips with his own, thrusting up against her. It’s carnal, thrilling, Rey’s eyes rolling up into her head with pleasure.

Rey’s towel somehow remains knotted at her chest, the terrycloth slowly slipping looser and looser with each bounce of her body on his lap. She’s impressed that it’s remained on so long; a sentiment Kylo doesn’t share. His free hand tugs at it, shakily, as if he’s an addict chasing a high named Rey. The perfect salve for his broken soul, he thinks, right before the towel finally gives way, fluttering down around them to reveal her naked torso. 

Ben can’t help but pull away, finally granting Rey’s mouth quarter, to appreciate all of her splendor. His eyes, hooded with lust, roam appreciatively over her small breasts, down to her still slightly concave stomach. They continue, traveling over the sharp points of her hip bones, before finally arriving at the paler skin of her cunt, still driving down on his length, pink lips poking out as she slides on now drenched leather. His love, a goddess in her own right, he marvels, before catching her embarrassment. 

He looks up at her face, taking in her red cheeks, and lays a kiss over her heart, pushing awe back at her through their Bond. 

“Beautiful,” he murmurs against her skin, smelling fresh and clean. 

“You’re acting like its the first time you’ve seen me like this,” Rey ducks her head, hiding her hazel irises from him. That won’t do at all, Kylo thinks. He tucks his thumb under her chin, lifting her face back towards his. 

Gold and green, Takodana forest in the golden light of the setting sun. That’s the color of her eyes now, and it’s fitting, given where they first met.

Where this all began.

“Rey, I will always be amazed by your beauty. No matter how many times I see it,” Kylo vows, voice rough and hushed. He means it, too, knowing that he’ll always pause to appreciate, even after decades by her side. 

He bends down to suck a nipple into her mouth, making her arch into him as his tongue and teeth make every one of her nerve endings spark. “My love, my Rey,” he sighs around her breast, fingers strumming her other nipple into a hardened peak. Her head swims as she breathes an affirmation back to him, willingly letting him possess, control.

As if her light now surrenders to his dark, bending to his needs.

_**My queen**_ , his mind whispers, unleashed and unbidden by passion. Rey shudders, moaning at the implications of his words. He feels like belonging to her; so right, their bodies together. She grinds against him again, his leather bottoms now too slippery to grant her any relief. She needs him as bare as her, and she tells him so through their Bond, hands desperately pushing at the waistline of his pants. 

With the speed of a warrior, Kylo throws her onto her back, his lips moving up to her neck as his fingers wander south. He finds that spot on her neck that makes her shiver, and he runs his teeth over her skin there as she finally pulls his pants down, using her hands and then her feet. 

He marvels at her flexibility, and for a moment, he lets himself think of all the ways he’ll take advantage of it - now, later, for as long as she lets him. Then her hand wraps around his cock, the calluses of her palm providing the perfect amount of roughness as she begins stroking. 

“Fuck,” he groans, and Rey grins coyly, taking victory in his ecstasy. His nature may drive him to possess, but hers does too, forever a Scavenger, forever claiming what’s hers. 

“Mine,” she hisses, somewhat aggressively, voice hitching up an octave as Kylo slides a finger along her cunt, flicking up when he reaches her clitoris. Fireworks, she thinks she sees behind her closed eyes, his touch is a firework and Rey’s the fuse.

“Yours,” he agrees, his voice deeper than ever and velvet smooth. If his fingers are incendiary, then his voice is raw electricity, making her insides clench demandingly. 

Kylo begins moving back down, his lips blazing a trail down her neck before detouring for each breast. She’s squirming and writhing, her stare locked on the black curls and pale skin making its way down her tanned body. He pecks down her stomach, and Rey tries to stop him before he can continue.

“Kylo, wait,” fingers scrambling at his shoulders, trying to pull him up. “I want- I thought-“ and she’s not how to say it, still too scared of rejection, unsure of her own desires and how to voice them. Sex seems too clinical to say, what this is, what she wants is more than sex, and so she sends him an image, a fantasy of him thrusting into her-

“Fuck, Rey, fuck,” the very idea of her desiring him inside her seems to break him for a moment, eyes going black and jaw so rigid she worries it might snap. “Sweetheart, I promise, yes, but I have to-“ now he’s fumbling for words, a rare moment from His Eloquence. 

Another triumph for Rey. 

There’s something across the Bond, about making her ready, warming her up and she doesn’t quite understand until his finger breaches her entrance, thick and delicious as it slowly pushes its way past her walls. She’s tight, so tight, one of them thinks and the other hears, and Rey’s eyelids flutter open as she moans an “oh”, her lips a perfect circle.

_Now_ she understands, and her grip loosens, allowing Kylo to finally continue his journey. 

She tastes like sin and salvation, he thinks, exotic honey from a hidden desert oasis. He’ll never tire of it, never not want to lay worship between her thighs. His tongue flicks over her swollen clit, massaging it before circling it again and again. Rey’s hips roll in response, breaths clipped short as her legs quiver. He adds another finger, thrusting them in and out as he licks. Wanting to watch her fall apart on his mouth, with his name on her lips. 

“Kylo,” she pants, “Oh, stars, Kylo.” What was a whisper grows in volume as he curls his fingers up, pressing against the spongy bit part of her front walls. It makes her keen his name, loud enough to reverberate in his bones and Force, he loves making her do that. Masculine pride demands he makes her sing, makes her scream. He wants the whole fucking universe to know whose name she cries out, who she belongs to. 

With that in mind, he sucks her swollen button between his lips, gently running his teeth over the nub while his fingers press deeper into her heat. Her knees lock, tension in her body making it go taut as she rocks on the edge. Then his teeth stop to allow his tongue to circle around her clit, strumming the sensitive muscle there, and Rey crumbles. The tension snaps as her body rises off the bed, eyes clamped shut as she comes.

“Kylo!” she screams in ecstasy, granting his ego’s wish. 

For a second, the Supreme Leader’s unsure, torn between staying here and continuing to lick her through the afterglow; but he’s also so hard, his balls throbbing almost painfully, and he wants - no, he needs to be inside of her. 

To take her, and to give to her all that he can offer. 

Reluctantly, Kylo climbs up her body, kissing her freckled shoulders before settling his hips between her thighs. His cock twitches up, sensing the heat of her so, so close, and he can’t resist pushing his hips up, dragging the length of him between her folds.

“Gods, Kylo,” Rey moans, the sensation coaxing her out of her afterglow, her pelvis greedily following his. Her head’s still spinning from her orgasm, but her core, sated only a second ago, suddenly demands more, this, him, _now_. 

He can’t even pretend his hand isn’t shaking as he guides his tip to her entrance, drawing on every ounce of his control to not just push in, to _take_ like he wants so, so badly. With a drawn breath he locks eyes with hers, scanning them for any sign of a ‘no’ whilst praying for a ‘yes.’

“Please,” is all she says, begging, a reversal from the Throne Room, when he’d begged for her. Her eyes show nothing but love, as her mind whispers a chant of _yes, please, I want you, I want this, let me give you this, me._

He pushes in, the tip of his length breeching her bottom of her walls. They clench, an inferno of wet and shimmersilk, drawing him in further as if trying to force him to speed up, to slam in and give her all of him. It’s torture to stay slow, moving with a tenderness one wouldn’t think capable for a man of his size, but he does, inching forward till he’s fully sheathed, slick heat all around him.

He drops his head to her shoulder, kissing her clavicle while giving her time to adjust.

Rey feels like she’s split in two and it feels heavenly, she thinks, lust burning through her veins and coiling around her stomach. Kylo’s more than proportional, and she’d been (frankly) concerned about the pain she’d heard so much about that comes with losing one’s virginity. But either the rumors were banthashit or the Force truly made them for each other, because while there was some discomfort as he pushed in, the skin around her cunt stretching for his width, there was no actual pain now that he’d slid home, filling every inch of her.

Rey’s the first to move, submitting to her Scavenger instinct to take what she wants. The motion sends delicious sparks down into her already tight core, making her mewl.

“Kylo,” she grabs at his butt, trying to get him to roll his hips, to do something, dammit, and he finally does, realizing that she’s not in pain. At first, his thrusts are slow, soft, but like his kisses earlier, and spurred on by her thoughts of more, he lets the animal part of his brain take over. His hips ram into hers, moving faster, harder, as he raises one of her legs and drapes her foot over his shoulder. That makes her moan, eyes flying open as he ruts into her. She responds by gripping him tighter, and now Kylo’s panting, moaning “Rey, Rey, Rey.”

“Fuck,” Rey arches her back as he hits a particularly sweet spot, making the fireworks return and her vision blurs. “I love you, Ben,” she cries, and then shrieks when his thumb finds her clit, pressing against her as he continues to impale her, relishing in the sounds they make together. It’s taking every ounce of him to not give in to nature and come right then and there. He already knows he can’t last much longer, disappointing his unrealistic expectations, but he’s determined to hold off long enough to make her come again.

“Stars, Rey, I love you,” he rasps, before finding that pulse point on her neck again with his mouth. He nips, leaving another bruise, another mark that she is his and his hips snap, the knowledge that she is his and no man, no one will ever have her like he did - _**no one else will ever have her at all**_ \- causes his control to crumble, his thrusts becoming wild. But the combination of his lips and his mind, his cock rubbing against her walls, hitting that delicious part at the front of her cunt makes Rey’s toes curl and her body rise off the bed. She’s pulsing around him, crying out his name, squeezing every drop out of him as they come together. 

Her mind’s gone white like a supernova, and she thinks she can see the galaxy swirling between them.

Kylo falls on top of her, strength sapped by all of his restraint. Their bodies are slick with sweat and the musk of sex permeates the air, as if they’ve claimed every element and made it theirs. He stays inside of her while they both come down, clarity slowly returning as their breathing becomes normal. Finally, he’s too soft to stay in (and he’s moderately concerned that he’ll crush her), so he rolls off to the side. Before Rey can reach for him, he’s tucking her up under his chin, needing to hold her as much as she needs to be held. 

Her body boneless and mind pleasantly exhausted, Rey feels herself drifting into sleep after only a few more moments. Tomorrow, she knows, she’ll be pleasantly sore (the area between her legs already throbbing a bit), but he’ll be there, ready to face the consequences with her.

Surrounded by Ben, Rey falls asleep, wrapped up in the afterglow.

 

—————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

 

Years ago, when Kittara Ren and Kylo Ren were still known as Amara Tarkin and Ben Solo, one of their fellow troublemakers snuck a terrible action holovid into Skywalker’s Jedi Academy. The small band of miscreants, which would later be known as the Knights of Ren, waited for Skywalker to leave on some sort of fundraising trip before they snuck from their huts and into an empty classroom one night to watch said film. The plot centered around a Jedi taking on a Sith during the days of the Old Republic, and the main character must have been cast more for his stuntwork than his acting. 

Naturally, this caused the viewing to turn into a fast-paced lampooning of said holovid, six raucous teens groaning at each poorly delivered line. Further, no one working on the film had done any sort of research on the Jedi (or engaged in any hand-to-hand combat), which lead to fantastically ridiculous stunts. In one scene, the lead actor found himself hiding from his Sith nemesis by holding himself up between two ceiling beams, limbs locked and rigid as the Sith skulked past him. 

This particular stunt received much derision from the group. “Bullshit,” one of them had snorted. “Jedi don’t fucking hide on ceilings from Sith.”

“Right, why isn’t he just using the Force to disguise himself?” Another chuckled, tossing a piece of popcorn at the screen in protest. It hits the actor’s strained face right between the eyes, and the friends all cheer merrily. 

“He’s not even using the Force to help hold himself there!”

“Plus, a Sith Lord would immediately look up. Duh.” A younger Kittara (then Amara Tarkin), groaned.

“Completely unrealistic. His hair’s falling in his face and swaying, there’s sweat dripping off his brow - even a half-rate bounty hunter would notice this idiot,” Ben Solo agreed, shaking his head. 

“So we’ll never catch you hanging out between some ceiling panels, Solo?” Amara teased, and got a Force spitball in the ear for her attitude. “Fuck, Ben!”

“Please. Any Jedi who pulled that shit should be stripped of their knighthood and publicly shamed.” Solo’s declaration gets a solid round of agreement from the group, all of them commenting on the ridiculousness of such a stupid and unrealistic maneuver.

The hooting and hollering of the memory fades and Kittara Ren silently curses from her position, her body lying prone against a (you guessed it) cold, white ceiling panel. She’s glad she put her hair up for this mission, although she hadn’t expected this much trouble (or at least not this soon). 

She can feel the blood rushing to her face as she looks down from her spot, pinned to the top of the ceiling with the Force as she waits for her prey.

Just like that fucking movie.

‘Fuck everything.’

Kittara’s going to have to erase every gods-damned security holo before she leaves here. Not just to avoid violating any treaties or offending any of the locals, but to keep fucking Kylo Ren from ever finding out that she ended up pulling the same trick they’d mocked in that shit holovid all those years ago.

No fucking way he ever learns of this, the redhead vows.

The click of heels against the polished white stone of the floor makes the Knight’s ears perk, and she takes a deep breath, using the Force to further cloak herself from being spotted. Of course, she thinks, fucking Bazine Netal’s wearing _heels_ on her assignment to follow her, because Bazine Netal’s as big of an idiot as her employer. She might as well have a collar with a bell around her neck, as those shoes ruin any chance of remaining undetected. 

(Then again, nothing Bazine Netal does is meant to go undetected, meaning she’d either oversold her abilities again; or, Kittara’s supposed to know Bazine’s on her tail and Armitage Hux thought she wouldn’t be able to take down a cut-rate informant with exactly one success to her name. It’s probably more option one than two, but the insinuation still makes Kittara’s blood boil.)

Sure enough, the svelte form of Bazine Netal comes into view, her curves fully on display despite only her face being uncovered. She sways her hips while she walks, as if putting on a show for the security cameras. Kittara doesn’t even bother tapping into her mind; the woman’s broadcasting her thoughts like a fucking sports announcer. Bazine’s desperately trying to hide her concern that she’s completely lost her mark, meaning she will go back to Hux empty handed (confirming Kittara’s suspicions as to who Bazine was answering to).

Kittara has to stop herself from rolling her eyes. 

Briefly, Kittara catches a glimpse of Bazine’s fear of disappointing General Asswipe; and a hope that perhaps another blow job will save the spy’s skin. The thought (and accompanying mental picture) makes Kittara’s stomach roil and she has to choke back the urge to retch then and there.

‘Fucking Force, Netal, I thought even you had standards.’ 

What Bazine doesn’t know is how little she needs to worry about Hux’s reaction to her failure, as she’s going to be quite dead by the time he learns of it. That brings a dark smile to Kittara’s lips as she tenses her muscles, preparing to pounce.

She swoops down, a deadly black shadow going for the kill. 

Kittara lands soundlessly behind Bazine, the latter now gazing at her wrist, watching a security feed she’s tapped into as she looks for Kittara in the corridors ahead. Kittara’s silent landing is partially thanks to the Force, and also because Kittara fucking Ren wears appropriate fucking footwear when she’s on a fucking mission. 

It is with this deeply annoyed notion that she ignites her saber, scarlet light surging forward with a hum of energy. “Hello, Bazine,” she purrs, and right as the woman’s shoulders tense, just before the spy’s body turns, Kittara Ren slams her saber forward, straight into the woman’s back until the beam bursts through her front, burning a hole in her shriveled little heart.

“Looking for me?” Kittara can’t help but ask as Bazine’s body falls forward, first to her knees and then to the floor. 

‘She wasn’t even Force-sensitive, and yet Hux believed she could handle me,’ Kittara’s ego sulks. What a gods-damned insult. 

While she darkly wonders if Hux would ever underestimate Kylo in such a manner (‘Every Force-sensitive asshole with a day of training can yield a lightsaber, and I’m a fucking Knight of Ren!’ she rants internally), Kittara removes her blade from Bazine’s back and draws it through her neck, severing the dead woman’s head from her torso. She does this to make sure the spy’s dead; but also to satisfy the bloodlust still burning in her veins. 

After stashing the head in a nearby wall panel for easy retrieval (as one doesn’t arrive to diplomatic meetings carrying a severed head), Kittara looks for an easy and quick place to dump the rest of the body. After all, she’s on a floating city above Bespin, shouldn’t there be a convenient garbage chute nearby?

The rapidly approaching clatter of boots - multiple boots - interrupts her search, and Kittara’s spine tingles as her face jerks towards the sound. A quick scan with the Force tells her the calvary’s arriving right on schedule (fine, _slightly_ ahead), and she quickly sheaths her lightsaber, tucking it deep into one of her pockets. 

Finally, the boots round the corner as a squadron of Cloud City’s finest raise their weapons at her, their eyes flickering nervously at the sight of a Knight of Ren standing over a headless body. 

Their guns are set to stun, Kittara notes, amused by the show. 

‘Adorable.’ 

There’s a familiar presence approaching, one that seems to make the guards more nervous and relaxed at the same time. She can smell the scent of brandy, the clack clack clack of a cane against the floor and she grins, as if encountering an old friend. 

With a swirl of his cape, Lando Calrissian steps to the front of the crowd, apparently unconcerned that he’s now facing a Knight of Ren without any protection.

“Well, well, well, what have we here,” he asks, voice still as smooth as ever, even as age hobbles the galaxy’s most notorious playboy. He pays no notice to the dead and still bleeding body between them, other than to poke it with his cane. 

There’s no response, which surprises no one given that there’s also no head.

“Heard you needed an exterminator. Had some pests,” Kittara enunciates the last word by tilting her head towards Bazine.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve showing up here,” Lando growls back. “After what he did - and you still went back-“

“Don’t start with me, Calrissian. You have no idea the Hell he went through. He’s trying to make it right.” There’s fire in her eyes as the Knight cuts the old smuggler off, snapping to her leader’s defense.

“After all I did for you when you were running from Snoke-“

“I appreciated it then, and I appreciate it now. But you know who my loyalty’s always been to.”

“Yeah? Cause it doesn’t seem to be super clear to me right now, what with a dead First Order spy at your feet.” Lando raises an eyebrow, but keeps his eyes locked on hers.

“Please, she was an independent contractor.”

Lando snorts.

“Besides,” Kittara continues, “this is why I’m here. To ask you for-“

There’s a flutter from the corner behind the wall, the flash of a blaster being moved as someone listens, waiting. Her face goes pale as she prods with the Force, feeling a far too familiar presence lurking.

_“AMARA!” Ellie screams, reaching towards her sister, her bright blue eyes desperate, hopeful. Her sister, her protector, and now the reason for her death, the most twisted kind of poetry. Kittara yanks her forward with the Force, lightning fast but not fast enough as the blaster bolt rips through the blonde girl’s chest. Her eyes go wide, fear and realization making them darken as the life began to drain away. Kittara screams, before her eyes shift golden and her saber ignites._

The memory comes on like Force lightning, consuming and painfully raw. It’s powerful enough to drown out any fonder, warmer recollections of simpler times, of jungle planets and tenderness. Kittara’s frozen as she pulls herself out of it, willing her face to stay blank, emotionless, showing no weakness.

Certainly not to _him_.

The man hiding behind the wall tenses, right before an invisible hand yanks him by the collar, slamming him down against the hard stone floor. He’s dragged out through the Force, stripped from his hideyhole as the alarmed Cloud City police stumble back en masse, crying out in panic.

Their fear tastes delicious, a warm salve on Kittara’s unusually frazzled nerves.

Lando just closes his eyes, sighing deeply.

After a moment, the man looks up from the floor, olive skin now marred by a split upper lip, dark eyes hard and resolved. For once, he stays silent, although he spits a wad of blood and phlegm on to the floor to show his displeasure. 

“Poe Dameron,” Kittara Ren practically purrs, brown eyes twinkling with hate. “What an absolute pleasure.” Vermillion lips curl into a wicked smile, the picture of a femme fetale - the snake, coiled and ready to strike.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew. My apologies for the emotional whiplash I've caused on all of you with that scene change at the end. And many, many thanks to Bunilicious for helping me figure out the flow of this chapter, which I agonized over all week (she got y'all smut at the top). Additionally, many thanks to Perperuna for the gorgeous moodboard she made me - yes, another! I am so lucky and you can see it on my tumblr.
> 
> So all y'all know, I really struggled with writing a Kittara POV scene because again, I want this to remain on the Reylo, but, her meeting is incredibly important for the plot and not something I could really explain through Kylo or Rey for reasons you'll all see eventually. There are enough moving parts here that from here on out, you'll get the occasional non-Rey/Kylo POV scene, but I will always keep it minimal and surround it with Reylo. Hopefully, y'all didn't hate hearing Kittara's voice too much and found her as hilarious as I did writing her. (The line "and also because Kittara fucking Ren wears appropriate fucking footwear when she’s on a fucking mission." is one of my favorites that I've written.)
> 
> ETA: One last thing - I just looked and realized that I've gotten over *a thousand* kudos from you all and I am speechless. Absolutely, positively speechless. You guys, I cannot begin to thank you all, this means so much to me. This fic is my baby, and seeing a thousand people enjoy it enough to give it a like is truly humbling. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
> 
> As always, thank you all for sticking with me - hopefully you keep hanging around because the story (and the smut) aren't over yet! As always, I live for your thoughts and comments, so please drop me a line below. <3 Even if it's just "did you seriously make a Taylor Swift song your chapter title?" YEAH, I DID. (Although "I did something bad" is _way_ more fitting for Kittara's scene.) I will still read your comment and love it, even if you judge me. It's okay. I judge me too.


	31. Control

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Warning! The beginning of this chapter is written from the POV of someone with obsessive and misogynistic beliefs, which may be disturbing and even triggering for some people. While there is nothing too explicit, it is darker than usual for this fic, and so I wanted to warn everyone in advance in case this could trigger any readers.**

All things considered, it’s been a relatively good day for Armitage Hux. Ren’s been blissfully quiet while off playing house with his desert rat, allowing Hux freedom to meet with his co-conspirators without too many eyes watching. Hux spent the day making headway with getting another admiral to join his cause; important as it’s three days to Cantonica, when he finally becomes Grand Marshal Hux and this much closer to finally disposing of Ren and his Jedi whore. 

Oh yes, when the loth-cat’s away, Hux can’t help but think to himself.

Ren’s ridiculous obsession with his new toy also gives the First Order General the ability to finally put Bazine Netal and her skills to better use. This is why Hux now walks back to his quarters: Bazine should be reporting in from her surveillance, meaning he’ll have new footage and insight into just what Ren and his lot are planning. 

(There’s an itch in his palms as he thinks about what else he’ll have footage of, and oh, he has to remind himself to wait.)

Maybe if he’s lucky, he’ll be able to negotiate another blow job out of the sultry spy. She’s not necessarily Hux’s type, but she’s better on her knees than she is at her job and keeps it discreet. This being imperative to Hux, given that he’d rather keep their extracurriculars secret. Bazine’s neither deserving of his stature as a nobody from an inconsequential family. People knowing (or even suspecting) could tarnish the family name, and no, Hux can’t have that. Still, Bazine’s happy to play the whore, and in Hux’s mind, most women are just that. 

It’s one of the many things Kylo Ren has yet to learn. 

Silly Ben Solo, now so willing to do whatever his Jedi slut demands of him. She’s clearly been behind this from the start, all these feel-good initiatives under the guise of tricking the Galaxy into obedience. Making Ren more and more vulnerable to a coup. 

The fool. 

All in all, everything’s coming up Armitage today, especially when he opens his chamber’s door and sees the skinsilk fabric of Bazine’s bodysuit draped over his chair.

Hux’s teeth flash in the low light, a perverted grin twisting his lips. So Bazine wants to play. Presumptuous of the woman, but then again, she knows his secrets.

Too bad he’ll eventually have to kill her. Can’t risk any loose ends compromising his plans, especially once Hux makes _Her_ submit, to give in to what he knows they both want.

 _She_ is rightful, and all Hux needs to do is make her see…

Hux shivers, as if trying to shake such thoughts from his mind. He needs to focus now, although soon he’ll certainly be pretending its _Her_ on her knees and not Bazine.

“Ah, Baz, I take it you’ve returned from a successful hunt?” Hux’s eyes glint with anticipation as he shimmies out of his perfectly polished boots. They fall to the floor with a clatter before he pads towards his bedchambers. There, he can see the outline of a body in bed, tanned skin resting on a white pillow.

He frowns.

“Bazine, what are you doing in my bed without permission? You know how this works.” 

Silence.

“Netal,” his voice is near a growl now, low, dangerous. “Your fucking report, Netal, where is it?”

Again, there’s no response, and Hux feels something snap inside of him. Fists clenched, he stalks over to his bed and grabs the spy through one of her large hooped earrings that are usually hidden by her black headcovering. He expects to hear a scream of pain and some resistance, and (gods, he hopes) the sound of skin being ripped as payment for her insolence. 

Instead, his hand pulls the entire head up and away, tossing the sheets back enough to reveal throw cushions and clothes stuffed underneath, where her body should be.

Aghast, Hux shrieks, flinging his hand back and forth until Bazine’s severed head flies off his straightened fingers, landing on the ground with an unceremonious plop. There’s no blood, Hux realizes, and the spy’s been dead long enough for the skin to go rigid.

Upon closer inspection, Hux observes how Bazine’s neck wound has been cauterized.

Only one known weapon cauterizes wounds as they inflict them, and Hux is only aware of three people in the Galaxy who carry them.

Handy things, those bloody lightsabers are.

It takes a moment for Hux to catch his breath, and during this time, his mind races. Clearly, Netal oversold her talents for stealth and ended up being Kittara Ren’s prey (rather than the other way around). Hux had partially expected that, and for a moment, he’s almost proud of how easily the redheaded Knight dispatched the spy. A clean, swift kill, none of that brutish hacking that the so-called Supreme Leader favored.

Then again, Kittara Ren is a Tarkin, a daughter of an esteemed military family. One of the highest Imperial pedigrees one could have.

It’s such a shame _She_ didn’t embrace her surname, still brainwashed by her misplaced loyalty to Ren. 

For now. 

No, he reminds himself, not willing to allow himself to indulge in that particular fantasy, not yet. Not when it was clear that his brilliant girl pieced it all together, knowing exactly who sent Bazine to tail her. 

‘Knowing Amara,’ he thinks as his eyes begin move, hawkish. He uses her birth name only in his thoughts (he’s not an idiot, he’d never say it out loud) as he spins around, slowly, eyes searching for the telltale sign of a holocam. After all, she’s colder than he, and even more twisted, he knows, meaning she’d want to see him find Bazine’s head in his bed.

Gods, if only Amara knew what that does to him. 

Feverishly, he wonders if jealousy drove her to do it, Amara staking a claim over him by depositing his whore for him to find - her trophy of dominance. Silly girl, he thinks with a grin, if she thinks Bazine holds a candle - nay, a spark to the bright torch of Amara Tarkin. He’s already hers, just as she’s already his, even if she refuses to recognize it. 

But no, he knows his girl, has watched her for years, studied her obsessively. He knows this is a message, a warning; although he’s faintly surprised he didn’t find the Knight herself waiting for him. 

This tells Hux many things, Amara’s choice of retaliation. It means they’re still not ready to make their move, possibly that they’re behind schedule. It shows a certain level of self-interest, a desire not to get caught delivering her present.

Not only did she want to evade detection by his guards and the loyal, hand-picked crew of Hux’s Star Destroyer; but, most of all, she’s hiding it from that brooding child of a Force-user that she’s maddeningly devoted to.

Kittara Ren’s hiding something, Hux recognizes, and oh, isn’t that just _delicious_.

The soft, steady growing and fading light of a transmitter beacon catches the ginger man’s attention, nestled against the wall facing his bed. He runs his hand along its wire till he finds the tiny camera attached, no larger than the Officer’s scrolls in the front pocket of his officer’s jacket. It’s so obviously placed that Hux knows she meant him to find it, a little parting gift in the puzzle she’s left behind. 

The General can’t help but lick his lips at the thought that she’s watching him now, connected through this camera. How her amber eyes would focus on his, sparkling with wicked delight. Auburn hair framing that pale face of hers, her fair skin a sign of her excellent breeding. How her breasts would look from this angle as she leans forward, towards him, watching with anticipation as he -

‘Stop this,’ he reminds himself, before he gets too carried away. After all, she’s not some whore, not some sand rat nobody, _She_ is a Tarkin and deserves his chivalry, at least for now. 

Hux’s gray-blue eyes glitter menacingly as he raises the camera to his face, training it on his face. 

“Ah, now I see you.” he grins, and then pauses, formulating the best way to sign off. He has to play it carefully here, now, when her loyalty’s still displaced and she’s not truly his yet. 

(But he will make her submit, and oh, when he does.)

“Your move, my dear Kittara,” he hums, patting himself on the back as he speaks it aloud. Yes, that sounds appropriately sinister and also certainly nothing like the whinging schoolboy she still thinks of him as. (He still wants to command her to return, back here to where he can still smell the lingering traces of her perfume, wafting through his chambers as if meant to drive him mad.) 

Instead, he snaps the camera in half between his fingers, before smashing the transmitting beacon against the floor, again and again until it shatters. He doesn’t stop there, pouring his frustration into the small black box until its completely pulverized, wires and plastic scattered about. 

He pants, catching his breath from his overexertion before looking at his reflection in the mirror before him. His skin is pale, purple sacks under his eyes, watching as he draws his fingers over his lips.

‘Soon,’ he promises himself.

His commlink chirps, playing the special tune of his ultra-secured channel, the one for communications that some would call “treasonous.”

Ah, so the cocky flyboy of the Resistance has finally changed his mind, Hux thinks with a smirk. He’s sure of this, even though he’s not yet read the message because why else would “General” Dameron reach out to him after rebuffing him so rudely?

Silly Dameron, Hux knew it was a matter of time before the beleaguered man saw the light.

“Dispose of this mess, and get me fresh sheets.” he orders his personal attendant droid, gesturing at the severed head of Bazine Netal on the ground.

Something cinnamon colored, thin and silken, floats in the air from where it’s caught in the seam of the wall. It makes Hux pause, and then approach it almost cautiously, reverently. 

With a gloved hand, Hux catches the delicate strand in the air, examining it. A strand of hair, long and dark red, snagged from where the aircon blew it into the sharp crevasse. It must have been already shed, as she couldn’t have noticed it pull away from the rest of her body, a tiny piece of Kittara Ren abandoned for him to find.

It is a gift, he thinks, almost reverently, pulling the single piece of hair free from its jail. He touches it almost tenderly, with a wonderment that seems unsettling on a man of his tastes. 

It is exactly what he needs to complete his weapon, at least for Kittara Ren, and a bemused chuckle escapes Hux’s thin lips.

Everything’s coming up Armitage, indeed. 

———————————-

There’s an incessant buzzing noise luring Rey out of her dreams. She’s slept with Kylo’s bare chest as her pillow, his arm wrapped around her shoulders, keeping close as they slumber. She wants to do nothing more but to nuzzle against him, keep her eyes closed as she returns to her dreams. 

Too bad that infernal buzzing will not stop.

(Infernal? She briefly asks herself. Kriff, their Bond is making her sound like him.)

After a moment, she wills her eyelids to crack open long enough to see Kylo’s comm device buzzing across the nightstand, rocking back and forth from its own vibrations. 

“Kylo,” she croaks, voice worn from all the screaming last night, and Rey feels a delicious soreness between her legs. 

Proof of what they’ve done.

“Mm,” he grunts, clearly less awake than her. 

“Kylo, your comm’s ringing,” she pushes on him gently, but the man’s built like a wall and she barely shakes him.

“Nngh,” is his only response, head flopping to the side. 

His comm starts buzzing anew. 

Kriff. With a frustrated sigh (punctuated with an almost annoyed glare at her snoozing lover), Rey reaches over and flicks the comm on herself, hoping to all the Gods she knows of that it’s not Hux on the other end.

Rey answering Kylo Ren’s private commlink might actually cause the ginger general’s head to explode. 

“Go for Ren,” she sighs, burying her head in her knees.

“Lady Rey?” Omega’s voice comes through, loud and clearly confused. Rey at least can let go of that tense breath she’s been holding, now that she knows who’s been calling.

“Yes, it’s me. Kylo’s, um, in the ‘Fresher,” she lies hurriedly. Luckily, she releases the talk button just before Kylo lets a deep rumble escape his chest. 

“Are you laughing at me?” she hisses, smacking his chest with her fist. It’s a gentle smack, and it only makes him chuckle more. 

“Uh, right. Anyways, please tell the Supreme Leader when he’s ‘done’ that Kittara Ren’s returned and her ship just landed.” Rey can hear the smirk in Omega’s voice, and she wonders how long before Alpha and Terror know that she’s answering Kylo’s comms in the morning. 

“No way she bought that ‘fresher story,” Kylo’s eyes are open now, having found the ability to speak Basic again. Rey wrinkles her nose, reaching for a pillow to smack him with. Kylo allows it, before he easily snags her wrist, pulling her towards him for a kiss.

His lips brush her just as his comm starts ringing again. 

Kylo groans, wresting it out of Rey’s hands as his mouth assaults hers. He pushes answer, but doesn’t say anything, choosing to continue kissing her good morning and make the person on the other end wait for him to finish.

“Kylo,” Kittara’s voice cuts through, the woman too impatient to wait (even for her Supreme Leader). “Put some clothes on, I’m coming over.” 

Kylo pulls away from Rey with a scowl, flopping back down on the bed with enough force that his hair fluffs out on the pillow.

“Why can’t we ever get a break?” he asks the universe, knowing the Force won’t answer. 

“Mmm, perhaps the Force knows we’ll never get out of bed unless something makes us,” Rey giggles, leaning over him to kiss him again, breasts hanging free as the sheet slips down. It’s like there’s magnets in his palms, as they fly to cusp them tenderly. 

“Well, consider me the Force, cause you both are getting out of bed, _now_.” Kittara snaps. Kylo’s still got his finger on the comm’s talk button, accidentally broadcasting their flirtations. Rey freezes, turning crimson with embarrassment. 

“Kittara, you can wait a little-“ Kylo starts, but Kittara cuts him off, her next words smothering both of their lust. 

“Dameron was there, Kylo. He was waiting for me.”

It takes a moment for them to move, but when they do, pillows and blankets fly as the two make their way to their wardrobes, propelled by the icy grip of fear in their stomachs. 

—————————————————————

The question burns in Rey’s mind, a wind-driven ember becoming an all-consuming inferno by the time Kittara’s debriefing ends and she retreats to “take her frustrations” out on gods know what. 

It starts when Rey and Kylo first observe Kittara, waiting for them in their antechambers where a hearty breakfast spread has been left for their consumption. Kittara’s completely oblivious to it, instead pacing before the table like a caged animal. Her brow’s furrowed, hands clasped behind her back as she walks, and when the chamber door opens, her head snaps up with the look of a woman on the edge.

The question lingers as Kittara fills Kylo and Rey in, insisting to converse only in Sith, concerned of a possible leak on _Mirrorbright_ itself. How she was tailed from _Mirrorbright_ to Bespin, either by a lucky chance or by intel passed along to one of Hux’s agents. The thought that they’ve been betrayed by someone here, despite all their precautions and screening, pierces through the cocoon of safety Rey’s felt swaddled in since landing on _Mirrorbright_ , deflating it. 

Rey’s curiosity is slightly distracted as Kittara explains how she set a trap for her tail, somehow managing to ambush a First Order spy named Bazine Netal. (The details of just _how_ Kittara did this are vague, something Rey suspects to be intentional on the Counsel’s part.) Alarm takes over for a moment as Kittara reveals that Bazine was definitely working for Hux, as well as a twinge of remorse when Kittara gleefully recounts decapitating the woman. 

But the flames of Rey’s query are only stoked when Kittara tells how she was then “welcomed” by Lando Calrissian and Poe Dameron, the latter apparently arriving at Cloud City just before Kittara. Rey notices how Kittara’s fist curled in as she uttered the Resistance General’s name, how her eyes flickered with hate as his name crossed her red lips.

How disappointed she looked to report that yes, he was still alive and with all appendages attached. 

So when Kittara stalked off with a dramatic swoop of her cape, leaving Rey and Kylo to retreat back into their bedchambers, Rey could hold her tongue no longer. She needed to know, at least for her own safety, if not her sanity. So she pounced, springing her question on Kylo the moment their door sealed shut, knowing if she waited till they crossed to the ‘Fresher they’d both be lost to distraction.

(Not that she wouldn’t enjoy it.)

“Ben,” she asks, intentionally using his birth name to indicate the seriousness of the matter. “Why does Kittara hate Poe Dameron so much?”

Kylo’s broad shoulders tense as he freezes in place, although he had to have anticipated this through their Bond. Rey’s asked him this before, of course, only for him to tell her that’s for Kittara to explain. However, Kittara’s always dodged the question when Rey’s been brave enough to broach the subject.

Instinct tells Rey not even to consider asking the Counsel about it now, after last night’s events.

“Please, Ben. I know you don’t want to reveal her secrets, but she’s not going to tell me and I need to know. I need to know what I’m dealing with here.” Rey implores, hating to put her lover in such a position but unable to stay in the dark any longer. Considering all that’s happened, considering how central this is to their long-term survival, she needs to know this story. 

She needs to understand what’s at play here. 

There’s a long sigh as Kylo rubs his temples, working through his internal conflict. Rey doesn’t dare say anything, sensing victory close enough to grab and not wanting to ruin it. She can feel Kylo’s begrudging agreement with her assessment through their Bond. 

She chooses to sit on the edge of their unmade bed, patiently waiting for him to respond. 

She’s rewarded for her restraint when Kylo flops down next to her, exhaling deeply as he does. His hair’s still slightly rumpled from last night, and she spies a small bruise on his neck peeking out from his collar. It brings a warm smile to her face, and she pushes the sentiment left from their joining, of no more secrets, down the Bond. 

“Do you remember Kittara’s younger sister?” Kylo asks after a moment. Rey nods, thinking back to the fragile looking blonde girl from Kylo’s memory, peeking out from behind her sister’s protective stance. 

“Ellie, right?” she asks, more to elicit a response than anything else. 

“Yes.” Kylo pauses. “As you know, when Kittara and Ellie’s father killed themselves, Kittara used the Force to erase that memory from Ellie’s brain, to help her through her trauma. Ellie was hysterical, and Kittara feared the guards would take Ellie away if she didn’t calm down. But Kittara was untrained with the Force, so her manipulation of Ellie’s brain did something, _changed_ something in her.” Kylo taps his head to indicate his brain. His brow is furrowed, as if he’s struggling to find the right words to explain what he means. “Even as an adult, Ellie was almost childish in some ways, especially when it came to trusting people and ignoring danger. It’s not that she had no fear, it’s that she only recognized it too late. A dangerous innocence, Kittara called it, one that left her vulnerable.”

There are glimpses through the Bond of an older Ellie, the bubbly child growing into a petite blonde teen with wide blue eyes and a sugar soaked smile. Of someone who seemed more than just naive, someone intelligent yet lacking any street sense at all. The idea strikes Rey as ludicrous; that Ellie Tarkin lived so long with such misplaced trust in the Galaxy. 

An idea as foreign to Rey as not worrying about her next meal, or not making note of every accessible water source whenever she visits a new planet. 

“She wasn’t Force-sensitive, was she?” It’s not really a question, as Rey already knows that the girl lacked her sister’s powers. After all, the Force is like a sixth sense, one that would warn Ellie of any danger had she been able to hear its call.

“No. She was as Force-sensitive as my father,” Kylo scoffs, before his face drops into a scowl at the thought of Han Solo. “But Kittara was incredibly protective of Ellie; she always blamed herself for Ellie’s… naivety.”

“Where does Poe come in?” Rey directs, trying to keep Kylo on track and not get too lost in his own childhood trauma.

“Ellie and Kittara were adopted by Wedge Antilles, a high-ranking member of the New Republic Navy who was also secretly training Resistance pilots. Wedge knew Dameron since Dameron was a boy, through Dameron’s mother, another talented pilot. At some point, Wedge moved the family from Tattooine to Yavin IV to help train Dameron and his lot. Kittara got to know him there while home from the Academy for a short while. She was struggling with the whole Jedi thing, and Wedge convinced her to take a break for a couple of weeks, think things over.”

“I always wondered if anything ever happened between them. Kittara was questioning whether she was really cut out for the Jedi life, at that point, and her attraction to Dameron didn’t help. Still, she swears to this day that she remained true to her vows.” Kylo shrugs. “She came back to the Academy ahead of schedule, resolved to follow the path of a Jedi.” 

There’s a smirk there, lurking about Kylo’s lips, the same ironic grin that always appears when the pair talk about their original plans to be virtuous Jedi Knights, just as Luke Skywalker taught them. 

“After Snoke - after he ordered me to kill Kittara and I let her leave, Snoke was furious.” Kylo’s eyes are dark now, brow furrowed with hate towards Snoke, regret at his own actions. “We’d thought Snoke would let it go, since he didn’t want her anymore and had me. All he ever wanted, we thought.” He laughs now, bitterly, and shakes his head as if admonishing his former self. “In that way, we were as naive as Ellie. Snoke knew Kittara was a threat to his dominion over me. And so, he chased her. Problem was, the First Order never really infiltrated the criminal underworld and Kittara knew it, so she dived into it so deep that Snoke completely lost track of her.”

“So he went after Ellie,” Rey breathes, horrified at the thought of that decrepit monster targeting the sweet young woman with such unguarded eyes. Kylo shudders, equally disgusted, and nods.

“Yes. The one thing Kittara cared about, the one thing that Snoke knew would draw her out. Kittara must have anticipated this, as she’d already sent Ellie to Dameron, asked him to protect her. Kittara knew she couldn’t bring Ellie with her, she knew Ellie would be in just as much danger in Kittara’s underworld circles. As for Dameron, I don’t know why he agreed to a favor to a Knight of Ren. My only guesses are out of principle, out of loyalty to Wedge, or some weird sense of chivalry. I suppose it seemed like a perfect fit to them, since the Order was chasing both the fledgling Resistance and Ellie Tarkin.”

“It didn’t take Snoke long to corner them. He broadcasted his intentions, both to garner attention to what he hoped would be the death of the Resistance and to draw Kittara Ren out. The Resistance had an escape plan though, and started evacuating immediately. They knew they needed to get their pilots and fighters out, if they wanted to survive to fight another day.”

Kylo stops again, his face pained as he remembers what happens next. How Kittara’s miscalculation as to her sister’s loyalty, her lack of fear, would backfire. Rey can see it all through the Bond and her heart drops.

“Ellie wanted to stay,” Rey states. It’s not a question.

“She knew Kittara was coming for her. I think even Ellie knew it was a trap, and perhaps thought by staying that she could save her sister. But that was Ellie, never recognizing that she’s surrounded by loth-cats while wearing a necklace of dead fish.

“Dameron, for all of his credit, tried to convince Ellie to come with him. He was, according to our reports, the last Resistance pilot to make it out, and he barely did with his life. He made the wise choice to protect the Resistance’s assets, to survive to fight another day. Not the hero’s choice, but the survivor’s choice. He left Ellie behind.”

Suddenly, everything clicks into place for Rey; at least, everything when it came to Poe Dameron. She now understands his penchant for heroics, why he chose to continue bombing the First Order’s Dreadnaught despite the great risk to him and his pilots. Why he struggled so much with his desire to be the hero, his chest-puffing bravado.

It all stems from the fact that the first time he chose not to be a hero, a young woman he’d sworn to protect died a gruesome death. 

Rey didn’t think it possible, but she feels the slightest twinge of sympathy for Poe Dameron. For being placed in such a cruel position, for carrying the weight of Ellie Tarkin’s death, for facing the wrath of Kittara Ren for it. 

No wonder the man eschewed morality. Morality had damned him if he did, and if he didn’t, so why should he adhere to it. Why should he put anyone else over him and his mission? It was heartless, terrible, and still so very wrong, but at least Rey, the survivor of Jakku’s deserts, can understand this. 

Relate to it, even. 

“Kittara arrived seconds too late. She almost got to Ellie, she was so close, before a Deathtrooper took the shot.” Kylo’s eyes are tormented, his voice wavering ever so slightly as he speaks. Rey can see it in his mind, the slightly blurred edges of a holofeed as Kittara’s arms stretched towards a running Ellie, the anguished scream as the blaster bolt ripped through the younger woman’s heart. 

Snoke made him watch. The revelation makes bile rise in Rey’s throat.

“Of course he did,” is all Kylo says softly. “Hux and I both.”

(Something about that Rey finds curious, as why was Hux also forced to watch the young woman’s death? Rey files this tidbit and all her questions away for her to investigate on her own, suspecting that Kylo doesn’t know why either.)

“Kittara escaped?” Rey prods. But Kylo’s still lost in his reverie, so he doesn’t answer immediately.

“She slaughtered every one of them. It was the first time I’d ever seen someone truly fall to the Dark. She was inhuman, powerful, deadly, and the Force seemed to consume her. I think even Snoke was shocked. Perhaps he even feared her, because after that, he left her alone.”

Another flash of a memory, of Kittara Ren, clad in an all black bodysuit with golden eyes burning like a wildfire. She spins like a hurricane, sliding her blade through a Deathtrooper’s torso like a knife through soft butter, an inhuman howl escaping her lips as she moves to her next target. There’s a ring of blood around her irises, like each life she takes stains the flaxen eyes of a person consumed by hate. She easily deflects a blaster bolt, hitting it off her saber like it’s a bat, before lunging at another attacker with Force-boosted strength. 

No wonder Snoke decided to stop pursuing Kittara Ren, Rey thinks with a shiver. 

Rey mulling over all this new information in her head as Kylo absently combs his fingers through her hair, soothing her. He’s watching her intently as he does, waiting for her next question.

“You don’t think it’s Poe’s fault, do you?” Rey finally asks, and Kylo sucks in a breath. Out of all the questions she could’ve picked, he thinks, wishing it had been _any_ other. He’s sure she already knows the answer, can see it through the Bond as clearly as she seems him next to her, but still, she chose this for some odd reason and Kylo groans. He leans forward to put his head in his hands. 

Why him? he asks the Force. Again, there’s no answer. 

“I’ve never admitted it out loud.” he admits, as if just saying the words constitutes a betrayal to his loyal childhood friend. It’s why he’s never argued with Kittara on this, never tried to make her see reason when it came to her irrational hatred towards Dameron. Hell, he even allowed himself to share it, preferring that over processing his own guilt. “I don’t think she can handle blaming herself. I think she already does, unconsciously, but she can’t verbalize it. Can’t recognize it. So, she blames Dameron instead.” Kylo shrugs, trying to disguise just how close to home his assessment hit. “Him blaming himself makes it easier for her, I guess.”

“It wasn’t your fault, either, Ben. There was nothing you could’ve done. Not then.” Rey takes his hand, kissing each knuckle soothingly. Her lips linger over the scarred skin from years of training and rage, and Kylo feels a tiny speck of absolution with each press of her lips. 

There’s another long pause, a comfortable silence with them each lost in their own thoughts. Kylo withdraws his hand from Rey’s to go back to playing with her wild strands of hair, smoothing them. 

In a flash, Rey jolts up, springing off the bed to look at Kylo almost accusingly. It’s such a change from the serenity of the prior moment that Kylo’s taken off guard, unsure of just which thought Rey’s purloined from his mind.

“You knew Poe Dameron would be on Bespin. That’s why you sent Kittara there!” She accuses, indignation ringing in her voice. Kylo curses their Bond for the first time in days. He’s become so used to sharing his thoughts with her that she must have seen a glimpse of his machinations and put two and two together.

“I had a suspicion. A hint.” Kylo does his best to look earnest, not wanting this to turn into a fight. “I knew Dameron wouldn’t hurt her, and I knew she was our best chance of getting him to at least sit down at the table.”

Kylo Ren really is Leia Organa’s son, Rey thinks, and anyone who doubted it would be silenced by this particular maneuver. She can feel how conflicted he was by his decision, his duplicitousness, and that gives her some comfort. She lets her glare soften a bit, although she’s annoyed that he kept this from her (as well as Kittara). 

Plus, she’s a sucker for those pretty brown eyes. 

“How did you know?” she asks after a moment, allowing her arms to uncross as she returned to their bed. Kylo wraps his arms around her, ensnaring her against his chest as if seeking reassurance that she’s truly not that upset, that she won’t run away.

“My mother’s awake, Rey.” He speaks so quietly that Rey almost misses it, and she pulls back, pushing against his ridiculously hard chest in order to look him in the eyes.

“What?” she asks, shocked, her own voice catching. There are tears in his eyes, threatening to spill over as he bites his lower lip to quell them.

“She woke up yesterday. I felt it in the Force. I got confirmation this morning, it was waiting on my comm. I wanted to wait to tell you until I was sure.” his voice is so genuine, and Rey understands why he waited. That he did it for himself as much as for her, scared of false hope and disappointment. 

“Yesterday, something told me to send Kittara to Bespin. I think it was her, I think she reached out to me while coming out of her coma.” There’s an unshed tear stuck in his lashes, and Rey tenderly brushes it away with her fingers. 

The she pulls back, not out of his embrace but enough so that she can close her eyes and reaches out with the Force. Through the Force, she stretches her mind up, out of their chambers and the palace. She blows past _Mirrorbright’s_ atmo, out into the stars where she can see all the shimmering specs of Force-users in the galaxy, little pinpricks of energy disguised within the stars. 

Something shines, aquatic blue and forest green, with streams of golden sand and rose pink, far, far away. It feels as verdant and alive as the artificial world Rey stands on, Alderaanian with a flare of Skywalker entwined. Rey’s knows this presence, she’s reached out to check on it time and time again, this life-force. 

Before, it felt muted, quiet, as if barely there. 

Now it sings, casting its harmony out for all the galaxy to hear. Announcing her return with trumpets and fireworks, the Princess, the daughter of Skywalker, having pulled herself from death’s icy grasp once more.

“Leia,” Rey sobs, unable to hold back her tears any longer. She lets Kylo gather her up, pulling her face against his chest again as she cries into his shirt not out of sorrow; but relief.

She pretends not to notice the wet plops on her head, or the sniffling coming from above. Instead, she lays a tender kiss over her love’s heart, and holds him just as tight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A huge, huge thank you for the beautiful moodboard to talented and wonderful Bunilicious! <3 **
> 
> I am so sorry for the late/skipped update, y'all. This has all been written for a week, and was supposed to go up Monday, but shit happened (everything is fine now). I think I'll be going back to the Sunday update schedule, since I'm just too damn tired on Monday evenings to edit. I am sorry for ghosting everyone and not giving a heads up as to what happened. I am bad, and I promise you I'll make up for it. 
> 
> I also know this chapter was a little light on the Reylo action, but again, lots of moving pieces here I need to wrap up and put in place before our kids get to Cantonica. I did want to show Kylo's growing commitment to Rey with him sharing Ellie's fate (and admitting that he doesn't 100% blame Poe), and his struggles with that by failing to keep Rey apprised of certain developments (he'll pay for that next chapter, trust me *eyebrow waggle*). Hopefully it was enough Reylo development to keep you all interested. 
> 
> Next week: Kylo makes amends for keeping Rey in the dark, and then its time for the dream meeting he's been dreading. In fact, here's a little preview as more penance for my sins:
> 
> It makes sense, of course, that he’s here. That they’re meeting here, in the ship his father always loved more than his family, more than his son. The old freighter is exactly how he last saw it, back on Starkiller Base, when he walked through the ship and ran his hand over the seats. Down to the notches in the cockpit’s door, the last deep line scratched into the frame hitting Kylo at eye level. 
> 
> “Ben, 16” a worn hand-written label reads next to it, his mother’s elegant scrawl still evident despite the years.


	32. Feelings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey's not too thrilled with Kylo for failing to disclose certain important developments to her. Luckily, Kylo knows a great way to apologize. ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> __  
>  **If you're seeing this, you know what time it is! That's right, ladies, gents, and non-gendered persons! It's smut time! So, if you're not down for smut, or not old enough for smut, don't read this chapter! (There is some non-smutty stuff at the end, but it's more of a transition scene). If you do want smut, and are old enough for said smut, well... let's get started, shall we?**   
> 

Hot water pours over Rey’s skin, rinsing away the sweat and the stench of last night from her body. The sound of the hydro fresher is loud; water hitting the hard pewter stones of the fresher walls. It’s not loud enough to drown the storm of emotions whipping through Rey’s mind. 

The last half hour was a windfall of revelations: Poe and Kittara’s tragic history, Kylo’s cunning political ploy by sending Kittara to Bespin, Leia’s awakening. The once-titled Last Jedi feels relief, anger, sadness, sympathy, fear, all rolling over her like tidal waves, each knocking her to her knees. 

She is not surprised, however, when the glass fresher door swings open (even though the glass itself is opaque from condensation, blocking her vision). Rey doesn’t respond, choosing to keep her eyes closed as she scrubs a floral scented shampoo through her wet locks. She very deliberately chooses not to risk glancing at the pale expanse of thick muscles she knows stands just outside the fresher door. 

“I was thinking,” Kylo begins, not bothering to wait for her acknowledgement. “As the Supreme Leader, I should lead by example. Including on conversation efforts, which is very important.”

“Mm?” Is all Rey responds with, already sensing his intention to join her in the fresher through their Bond. While (very) intrigued, she’s not quite ready to give in yet, still annoyed with the fact that he hid vital information from her over the last day-cycle. 

“I _neglected_ to tell you, I did not hide it from you. I did not intend to hide anything, you know that.” Kylo’s voice sounds closer, and despite her still-shut eyes, Rey knows he’s leaning past the doorframe, into the fresher itself. 

“Then why didn’t you tell me?” Rey snaps, then presses her lips together, stopping any further words from coming out. She instantly regrets the harshness of her tone, and feels the sting they inflict on Kylo. 

“Sorry,” she breathes out slowly, picking her words carefully. “I just - I hate being out of the loop, Kylo, and I don’t like feeling like you’re hiding - keeping- things from me.”

“Sweetheart,” Kylo’s guilt rings true in his voice. The tempo of water hitting stone changes, indicating that Rey’s no longer alone in the Fresher. She steps towards the back wall, giving Kylo room and enough space for her to open her eyes. She blinks the water out of her lashes, allowing her to finally see a contrite, wet, and deliciously naked Kylo Ren before her. 

Rey wills her eyes to focus on his face, not the way the water runs down his chiseled chest.

“I didn’t mean - nor do I ever want - you to feel that way, Rey,” Kylo’s eyes are like a fathier’s, big and brown. He gently catches her chin with his thumb, raising her gaze to his. “I didn’t, truly. I want to share everything with you. I want you by my side. We’re a pair, a team, partners.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me?” Rey asks, unable to keep her frustration from leeching back into her voice. 

“I- I got distracted. I know it sounds terrible, but we were finally going to be alone, undisturbed for one night, and all I could think about was you. Touching you, kissing you,” Kylo pauses long enough to trail his knuckle down the side of Rey’s neck, making her shiver despite the heat of the water. “Fucking you.” Lust flashes in his eyes, sparking an increasingly familiar warmth inside her.

Rey blinks slowly, both to clear the droplets away from them and to re-center herself. She feels Kylo through the Bond, his honesty, his guilt, and a slight tinge of embarrassment for being so easily consumed by his more animalistic desires. It softens Rey’s anger, how he’s laid himself bare for her, the sweetness of his chagrin.

(Plus, the little voice in her head cackles, he wasn’t the _only_ one eager to enjoy their night together.)

Despite the newly blunted edges of her displeasure, Rey’s still not ready to give in yet. This isn’t the first time Kylo’s forgotten to relay information to her, partially from the newness of their alliance. It’s also an engrained habit of his, keeping things secret, safe. It’s not just a potential thorn in the side of their newborn relationship, but a dangerous one. 

“Well then, Supreme Leader,” Rey tosses her water-soaked tendrils over her shoulder, “We need to keep you from becoming distracted. How should we do that?” She asks haughtily, trying her best to look somewhat beguiling as she does.

Kylo takes another step towards her, pupils blowing wide in the already low light of the fresher. Rey instinctively treads away, her back hitting up against the lukewarm surface of the fresher walls as she does. Recognizing that he’s cornered his prey, Kylo can’t help but smirk, running his large index finger from Rey’s slender neck to outline the curve over her breast. 

Rey trembles as she grabs his wrist, halting his digit’s travels. Her hindbrain and body scream in protest, but she’s determined to make her point. 

“Ah-ah,” she chides Kylo. “I can’t have you getting _distracted_ again.” 

“Rey,” he steps forward, his broad frame filling her vision and completely blocking the fresher spray from hitting her. The edge of his pecs rub against her nipples, making them harden in response.

She can feel the extent of his distraction pushing into her hip, hot against her. 

She wedges her free hand between them, pushing gently against the top of his abs in an attempt to put some space between them. 

“Perhaps, to avoid any further mistakes, we should try to not distract each other until everything’s sorted out,” Rey tries her very best to look earnest as she says this, biting her lower lip and looking up at her lover through her lashes. Apparently, looking innocent only strokes Kylo’s desire, as he separates her legs with one of his thick thighs, effectively pinning her against the wall.

“Is that what you really want? Because I have a much better idea,” he purrs into her ear, his voice liquid velvet. 

“What’s that?” Rey hates the way her voice shakes, breath catching in her throat. Kylo presses forward, sliding his already wet thigh up against her core. It’s all Rey can do to keep her eyes open, willing her hips to resist every urge to grind down against him. 

“Come with me today. Spend the day with me, in my meetings, my briefings. By my side,” he searches her hazel irises, chocolate meeting forest. She feels the flutter of nerves as he makes his request, the way his mind finishes with a whispered _**where you belong**_. The streak of a vision, a dream, her next to him - no longer the terrible queen to a twisted king, but a pair cloaked in compassion and justice.

“I like that plan,” she whispers, and like that, his lips are on hers, tension seeping out of his skin and sparking into need. He rubs his thigh against her again, wet skin gliding over her already weeping folds easily as he ravages her mouth with his own. His kisses feel like a ship searching for port in a storm, his hands seeking their anchor - his anchor. 

It dawns on her, briefly, that _she’s_ his anchor, his safe harbor, and her hands fly to his shoulders, gripping him tightly as if to remind him she’s here. 

Two strong hands move under her butt, cupping her cheeks. They’re large enough for her to practically sit in them, and Rey, satisfied with the terms of her surrender, formulates a new plan, more wicked than the last. 

Her hands trace up to the tops of his shoulders, and she gives him the briefest insight into her thoughts as a warning before she hops up, using his frame as leverage and wrapping her legs around his waist. There’s already a symphony in their movements, Kylo easily lifting her and supporting her with his arms. His tongue doesn’t cease in its pillaging, although he moans as he does. 

Rey feels the hardness of his cock sliding between the cleft of her cheeks, lubricated by the miraculously still warm water. It sends sparks to her cunt, making it clench in anticipation and she rolls her hips against him, seeking friction. 

“Already so greedy for me, aren’t you,” he chuckles and Rey nods frantically, moving her lips to rest at the hollow of his throat and down the ridge of his clavicle.

“How much time do we have?” she asks, knowing they’re both expected to leave their sanctuary soon. 

“Not enough to do everything I want to do to you,” Kylo hisses, one of his hands slipping away from where it cupped her ass, moving towards her front. His index finger slips against her clit, finding a different form of wetness. 

“Force, Rey, so wet for me, sweet girl,” he groans, nipping at her jaw. Gathering her slick along his finger, he finds her warm entrance and gently prods his way in. It is soft and careful, as if Kylo’s afraid he’s wrecked her after last night. While Rey was sore earlier, all such feelings are long gone - replaced by the urgent fires of arousal.

“Kylo, please,” she begs, scratching her nails along his skin and rubbing her ass against his thick length. “We don’t have much time.”

“Need to warm you up, my love,” he counters, but he adds another finger and begins thrusting them in and out of her cunt, making her mewl with pleasure. They’re nowhere near the size of his cock, but still makes her insides coil and her clit beg for attention as he finds that magical spot hidden in her front walls. 

“Gods, Kylo,” is all Rey can manage, making his grip tighten on her. She’ll have more bruises from him later, marks in the shape of his fingers just like the ones left by his teeth, more indication of her belonging, his need. 

The thought makes Rey’s tongue curl with pleasure and she keens, driving down on his fingers as she chases ecstasy. The sound of her cries echo off the stone walls, enhancing them, and Rey feels Kylo shudder. 

“Fuck, Rey, I love the noises you make for me. Love to hear you moan, hear you come. Hear you scream my name when you do. I love knowing I’m the one doing that to you, the only one who can-“

“The only one who will,” Rey promises, looking deep into those dark brown eyes that spurred her to flee Ahch-To, that convinced her to join him on Coruscant. Her affirmation makes Kylo curse, burying his head in her shoulder as he ruts against her. She can feel how much he craves her, how he wants nothing more to bury himself inside her and she almost laughs at how stubborn he’s being.

“Kylo, please,” she implores once more. “I need you to fuck me. Need you inside of me, now, please. I’m ready.” She squeezes her walls around his fingers to prove her point, drawing another breathy croon from him. Then she arches away, trying to angle herself closer to his throbbing cock.

Thankfully, blessedly, Kylo seems as done with teasing as Rey, and he pulls his fingers out, moving his hand down to wrap around his member, guiding it towards her. “Whatever my queen commands,” he whispers in her ear, just as the tip of his head breaches her entrance. Kylo’s restraint, which was never plentiful, has vanished, and he’s unable to keep himself from completely impaling her on him. The feeling of him thrusting inside, finally filling her makes her dig her nails in, leaving half moons embedded in his back as her head tips back with pleasure. 

There is nothing gentle here, not now. Nothing soft in the way he fucks her, cock ramming into her over and over as their skin slaps together. It’s feral, wanton, needy, an apology turned forgiveness turned re-affirmation in their movements. He drives her up against the wall, burying himself to the hilt each time and she loves it, loves the way his cock drags along the sides of her cunt before slamming up, pressing against the sensitive spongy muscle in her front. 

“You take me so well, take my cock so well. My good girl, sweet girl,” he babbles, and the filth of his words only stokes her arousal. Her skin feels hot, fiery, and she knows she’s getting closer and closer to release.

There’s an odd feeling of pressure, like a phantom thumb suddenly pressing against the aching bud of her clit, and Rey bucks her hips towards it in response. Kylo easily adapts his rhythm as the strange, imaginary but oh, so real digit circles around her nub, sending shockwaves to her core and making her back arch more. Dimly, Rey wonders where in the fucking galaxy Kylo learned to do _that_ with the Force, but she really can’t be bothered to ask him now. 

He can feel her walls fluttering around him, hows she somehow grows tighter and tighter, grappling at him as her orgasm nears. Kylo bites into her shoulder, resisting the urge to come until he’s sure she has. The violence of his teeth followed by the softness of his lips almost sends her there, he can feel it through the Bond, and he rails into her again, flicking her clit with the Force as he does.

She splinters into a thousand pieces around him, just as his self-control crumbles and he gives in to his pleasure. He hears her scream his name as she comes, just as he wanted, just as he asked and he can’t help but growl hers in response.

Coming inside her is a heaven he once thought impossible, he thinks as the last drops of him empty into her. He drops his damp forehead to hers, telling her he loves her as they come down. 

While their pants steady into normal breaths, Ben feels Rey stretching her hand out behind him, reaching. He can hear the splatter of the water against her palm, right before her pink lips part in a soundless laugh, eyes squinting shut with amusement as she does. It strikes him as just one of the many ways she is beautiful, from adorable and free like she is now, to the bewitching seductress she was just moments before. 

She is beautiful in all the things she does, he thinks with a swollen heart, before his brain finally kicks into gear. 

“What’s so funny?” he asks, curious. Her amusement stains their Bond and her aura with sunlight (so apt given her name). 

“The water - how in the kriff is it still warm?” she asks, shaking her head at her own silliness. 

She’s rewarded with the rarest of treasures - and her most favorite, this desert Scavenger turned almost-Regent. Ben Solo smiles at her, a true, soft, relaxed smile, and she decides this is her favorite smile of all. 

Her most precious find. 

“Good thing it is, sweetheart, ‘cause we need to get clean again.” 

For that, Kylo Ren gets a gentle smack on his shoulders as Rey’s laughter echoes around them.

————————————————————

For all Rey’s trepidation about spending the day next to Kylo, sitting on almost the same footing as he, her anxiety begins to melt away soon after the first meeting begins. By the second meeting, it’s nothing but a puddle, quickly evaporating under the hot sun of Kylo’s warm approval and Rey’s growing confidence. 

It helps, of course, that Kylo keeps their Bond wide open, allowing Rey to pluck facts and data from his mind as needed. Between that and Kittara’s very rigorous “Remedial Galactic Politics” classes that Rey’d already suffered through, she actually begins to feel like she’s getting the hang of this whole “governing” thing. Kylo makes sure to look to her frequently, soliciting her opinions as well as (a much calmer) Kittara Ren’s before rendering any decisions. 

Kittara also taught Rey that “looking the part makes you feel the part,” and the brunette can’t deny how right the Knight was. Her new wardrobe, one finally hand-picked by her and only her, helps provide an air of authority. She’s back in slacks, form fitting cream ones that are crisply tailored to give her far more movement than the dresses did. She’s paired it with an ash gray top, made of thick Chandrilan wool, with a peplum hem to add an air of formality. Rey likes that its long-sleeved, keeping her warm in _Mirrorbright’s_ more temperate artificial climate, with a high neck to hide Kylo’s marks on her neck. 

But the best part of her top is the fact that there’s a low scoop back, making the thing almost backless. When Kylo first saw it, his eyes went dark and he trailed a gloved knuckle down her spine, making Rey add a new entry to her list of wicked ideas. 

Plus, her top came with a matching cape, something else Rey’s learned to appreciate. Not only are capes essentially portable blankets, they add a remarkable bit of drama to one’s entrances and exits. 

“Ugh, just wait till you meet Lando,” Kylo groaned when she told him of her newfound fondness for capes.

By the end of the third meeting, the knot of trepidation in Rey’s stomach, the one she’d named Cantonica and kept growing in size, actually felt smaller. 

Not even Hux’s sneered contempt, barely veiled over their holocomm, could knock Rey down. If anything, a dark part of her preened at the forced deference he paid to her, the knowledge that she was there, by Kylo’s side and he was not. 

Petty, sure, but she _has_ been spending a lot of time around Kittara. 

It doesn’t escape Rey’s attention that Hux seems more cautious, more slimy than usual. Plenty of his words carry the weight of a double meaning lost on both her and Kylo, and she can’t help but notice the way Hux’s eyes keep flickering towards Kittara. 

The way the General looks at the Knight makes that instinctive part of Rey’s brain perk up, the ancient bit formed by generations of female survival. 

But there’s no time to address it, not with Kittara herself, as the meetings continue through dinner. Thankfully, Kylo’s vow of not allowing Rey to go hungry (even if for an hour) means they have a working dinner catered to them. This is the only time Rey’s anxiety flares, as she’s especially cautious of her table manners while eating in front of some of the First Order’s High Command. Miraculously, she and her light-colored pants escape without any stains on their fabric or reputation. 

By the time their day ends, Rey’s mind feels pleasantly exhausted, the warmth of success only accelerating her desire to sleep. The haze causes her to forget to mention her observations to Kittara, her brain too limp for the necessary synapses to fire. However, Kittara plugs her full of caf, reminding her that their night is only beginning. 

After all, it takes more power than even Anakin Skywalker possesses to pull a non-Force user’s spirit from the void.

And so, for the first time in many nights, Rey sends Kylo off to sleep alone, running her hands down his face and kissing him deeply as she does. She reassures him, whispering that she’ll be there with him, through the Force, and she believes in him. That he can do this, he’s strong enough, that she loves him. 

With a final squeeze of his hand, she sends him off to meet his father, one last time.

=====================

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back from vacation and feeling amazingly well-rested, so I wanted to give you all a steamy Reylo scene to make up for the incoming angst of Ben meeting Han (it's coming, it's mostly written). Thank you all for your patience while I took my me-time, as I really appreciate it. Your comments and kudos also meant a helluva a lot, especially after a non-Reylo heavy chapter. Hopefully, y'all have stuck with me through my vacation, and enjoyed your reward. :) 
> 
> Thanks to all those on The Reylo Writing Den who helped me get this chapter down on paper and gave me such awesome support as I wrote today. 
> 
> I'm going to try to get the Han chapter out tonight or tomorrow. However, this one is a hard one to write and really, quality matters way too much for me to just push it out without making sure it's just right, so I reserve the right to continue tinkering as needed. Han and Kylo deserve a damn good final conversation, and I intend to give them that.
> 
> PS: if you like the moodboard, let the fabulous and multi-talented bunilicious know!


	33. Daddy Lessons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It makes sense, of course, that Kylo’s here; that they’re meeting here, in the ship his father always loved more than his family, more than his son. The old freighter is exactly how he last saw it, back on Starkiller Base, when he walked through the ship and ran his hand over the seats. Down to the notches in the cockpit’s door, the last deep line scratched into the frame hitting Kylo at eye level."
> 
> A/k/a: It's time for Ben and Han Solo to finally sit down and chat.

He dreams he’s in the _Falcon_. 

It makes sense, of course, that Kylo’s here; that they’re meeting here, in the ship his father always loved more than his family, more than his son. The old freighter is exactly how he last saw it, back on Starkiller Base, when he walked through the ship and ran his hand over the seats. Down to the notches in the cockpit’s door, the last deep line scratched into the frame hitting Kylo at eye level. 

“Ben, 16” a worn hand-written label reads next to it, his mother’s elegant scrawl still evident despite the years. 

“You’re missing a scratch. It’s too low now,” Kylo says aloud, knowing the old man stands behind him, watching, waiting. He can practically see him leaning against the walls of the _Falcon_ , one arm casually braced against the opposite side of the doorjam. He knows that when he turns, he’ll see the same loped, jagged nose as he (“handsomely rough,” his mother always crooned affectionately). Knows he’ll see those emerald eyes that shone so brightly when he rammed his saber through his father’s chest. 

Kylo’s not ready to face that nose, those eyes. He stays facing forward, refusing to turn yet. 

“You kept growing.” his father’s gravelly voice answers back, his typical nonchalant tone disguising the emotion underneath.

Kylo resists the low-hanging fruit, resists telling him that yes, children do keep growing but he wouldn’t know. 

He keeps thinking back to Rey’s question, all those months ago.

_“Why did you hate him? Your father.”_

_“I didn’t hate him.”_

His near-whispered admission rings in his ears, like tinnitus after being too close to a thermal detonator. It’s maddening, making Kylo want to reach up and clear his ear canal of obstructions he knows aren’t really there, so he stays unmoving, unflinching. 

He’s not ready to face his father’s spectre, surrounded by a blue-white glow. 

Dead, by his son’s own hand.

“This Force ghost thing is weird, you know. Not meant for guys like me.” Han grumbles, trying to fill the dead air between them. Finally, he sighs, and Kylo practically hears the eyeroll that accompanies it. 

“Kid, you gonna stare at that wall all night or talk to me? Your mother’s gathered one Helluva team of Force users to get me here.”

There’s a glimmer in Kylo’s mind, and he can see bits of the outside world, the waking world, where Kittara and Rey sit cross-legged, deep in meditative trances while Terror, Omega and Alpha keep watch. There’s a flare of warmth, of reassurance across the Bond, an echo of what Rey told him before they parted ways earlier that evening.

_You are valid._

“Sorry for keeping you from such important business,” Kylo sneers, retreating into the safety of his anger. It feels like an old robe, familiar and warm, and the dark haired man thinks its far more preferable than turning and facing the consequences. 

There’s a long silence, and then:

“Ben, there’s never been anything more important than you,” Han’s voice is quiet, pained, like it was on the bridge, before Kylo stabbed him, before he made the greatest sacrifice to the Dark- 

Only to find out it was all a lie. 

“Yeah,” he sucks in a breath, feeling every bit the abandoned child again, “Then why didn’t you ever come visit me? Why’d you stay away from the temple? Why’d you leave me there, with _him_?” he demands, voice catching on his last word. 

Now he whirls around, fists clenched, to stare down the ghost of Han Solo. He looks the same as when Ben last saw him, face worn with age and thinning hair, long gone gray. He’s rewarded with that all too familiar look, chiding and contrite at the same time - the kind of oxymoron his father embodied.

Kylo, he’s Kylo, he reminds himself, not yet ready to be Ben here, and all that it entails. 

He looks at his father in fury, but there’s a deeper part of him that’s more curious, looking more for more similarities, for hints. Signs that he’s as much Solo as Skywalker, the two names forming his identity even when he followed Snoke.

“I left you there because I was stupid. Selfish. Thought it made it better for you, easier for you, if you didn’t have to worry about someone with nothing to offer. I forgot what I could offer,” he confesses, and it’s the most he’s ever heard Han speak, at least honestly. Normally, the man only speaks this much when he’s trying to save his ass, rambling to make up his lies and excuses. 

These don’t feel like lies and excuses, but its easier to pretend they are. 

“Liar,” Kylo hisses, hunching in on himself as he does. It’s a protective move, a stance, and there’s a shadow of a boy with black curls and big ears doing the exact same thing. 

“Think what you want, Ben, but it’s the truth and you know it.” His father’s long face, carried on in his son, twitches, and there’s a hint of his jaw grinding, a long forgotten habit that he’d fought to break. Instead, he holds his jaw so it’s off-kilter, frozen, watching as his own child’s jaw clenches and unclenches. 

“You taking good care of my girl?” Han asks after a moment, desperate to break the tension. He’d never been good at emotions, other than anger, another gift he’d passed to his son (then again, one could say Kylo gets that from both the Ky and the Lo). 

“I don’t have the _Falcon_ , Mother does,” Kylo huffs, rolling his eyes imperiously, trying not to be surprised that Han’s asking about his kriffing ship. 

“I meant Rey.” 

Kylo pauses, slowly exhaling and letting some of his anger go. His girl, and there’s a flash of Han offering Rey a job, back on Takodana, back before. It’s not his memory, he knows; he’s seen it before, when he and Rey were enemies and he invaded her mind.

“That, or she’s gonna kick the ass of whomever left that mark on your neck.”

It’s self-conscious, but Kylo raises his hand to his neck, to the bruise Rey sucked there along the scar she gave him. 

He raises his eyes to his father’s, meeting his smirk with his own. 

“Yeah, I am.”

“Good. You deserve a little happiness in your life, Ben. You deserve someone who gets you. I tried, Maker knows I tried, but I always felt unnecessary. Like you had Luke, you had Leia, what did you need me for?” Han muses aloud, running his hands over a lighting panel as he does. Even in death, his hand comes away covered in grime. 

“I needed you to be there. I needed you to tell me the truth!” Kylo stomps his foot down, then clenches his fist, recognizing his childishness, feeling too close to losing control (something he hasn’t done in months). 

“And I wanted to! You think it didn’t kill me, keeping that from you? Hell, I knew you were struggling, your mother was struggling and you think I didn’t want to help her? You? I did! I wanted nothing more to help her! But I was told to stay out of it! I was told not to interfere!” Han throws his hands up in the air, frustrated, and there’s something wet in his eyes. 

“Luke,” the hate in Kylo’s voice is apparent, making it deeper, darker. 

“Yeah, but it’s not all his fault.” Han says, and Kylo rolls his eyes, ready to respond with feigned surprise that his father was once again defending his estranged brother in law. “No, no, listen to me, Ben. Yes, Luke told me to stay out of it, but he gave me an out - an easy out. And I took it - I chose that, Ben. I chose to take the coward’s way out and run rather than fight. For my wife, my son. My family.”

Kylo watches warily as his father continues, his shoulders slumping with shame.

“I’d seen the Dark Side, you know. Before I met your mother. I watched it eat away at someone I loved, very much.” Han’s memories play like a holofilm in Kylo’s mind, the Force making his father’s mind an open book. Kylo sees a stunning brunette, dark chestnut curls that brush past her shoulders and full red lips. She looks glamorous, high class, as she bats her eyelashes coyly at what Ben can only imagine is a younger Han Solo.

Good to know his father has a type, he can’t help but think. 

“Her name was Qi’Ra. We came up in a Corellian orphanage together. Except when we escaped, I was the only one who made it out.” There’s a sound of a scream and crushing metal, a chase on foot between buildings. 

“Next time I saw her, I had no idea how deep she was already in. I watched her fall in with a Sith Lord and she let him take her soul, Ben.”

There’s another glimpse of the woman now, but she seems older, the light in her eyes long extinguished. A clawed hand lands on her shoulder, and a red and black face comes into view, encircled by tiny horns. Kylo himself can’t help but shiver at the visage of Darth Maul, the possessive glare he shot at Han Solo from across a hangar. 

“I found out that she was with Maul the last time I ran into her, right before I went to rescue your mother. I vowed then I’d have nothing to do with the Sith, the Force, any of that hokey shit. I didn’t like it. I felt,” he pauses, searching for the right words. “I was helpless then. Like there was nothing I could offer, nothing I could do. This was something beyond me, something not meant for some street kid from Corellia. It’s the same way I felt when Vader cornered us on Cloud City, the way he snatched my blaster out of thin air with the Force. I felt useless, lost. I couldn’t even protect the Princess- your mother from him. I felt that same helplessness with you.”

His father’s voice sounds like there’s gravel in his throat, and Kylo pretends not to notice the unspilled tears threatening to breach his father’s eyes. 

“I was wrong, and I’ve regretted it every day since. Me giving up, that was the worst thing I could do with you, I know that now. You didn’t need Luke, you didn’t need some kooky Jedi code, you needed your parents and I failed you, Ben.”

“I can’t even blame you for being angry at me, at us, because you have every right to be. And I can’t undo what I did. I can’t fix the past. I can’t even ask you for forgiveness because I have no right to. Your mother and I did this to you, we failed to protect you from Snoke and Luke and all this other Force shit. That’s on us.”

The old man sighs, running his hand back through his hair in the same way Kylo does when he’s grappling internally. 

“That’s why I came to you, on Starkiller Base. Not ‘cause your mom asked me to, but because I wanted to tell you. I knew, I think, that you were gonna kill me.” Kylo can’t help but wince at the harshness of his words, and at that, Han Solo shoots his son a look. “Oh, come on, kid, you did, there’s no nice way of saying it. But I can’t really blame you. I didn’t then, I don’t now. Especially knowing I was right.”

Kylo tilts his head ever so slightly, confused as to what exactly his father was getting on about. 

“Ben, I knew if you killed me, it would tear you apart. I knew what it would do to you. And while I didn’t want you to go through that, I knew it would be the weakening in the chain that bastard had you leashed with. I knew letting you kill me would be the only way I could possibly help you break free. That’s why I confronted you on Starkiller. That’s why I came to you. And I’d do it again, a thousand times, if it meant you finally escaped Snoke.”

Ben’s visions gone blurry, his eyes burning as he feels the Force wobble around him. Han feels it too, looking up and around, at the walls of his old ship before returning to his son’s face. 

“I don’t have much more time here, Ben. People like me, we don’t belong messing with this Force mumbo jumbo, but I needed you to know. I needed to tell you, Ben,” and at this, Han Solo steps forward, reaching up with his hand to rest it against his son’s cheek. 

The same way he did on Starkiller Base.

Except now his hand is cold, incorporeal, more of a breath than a touch. Another reminder of what he lost, what he sacrificed.

And for what? his soul asks. 

For once, his mind cannot find an answer. 

“Ben,” Han begs, bringing his son back to the present. “Don’t let your past destroy your future. You don’t have to forgive me, but you have to forgive yourself. You are the greatest thing I’ve ever done, and nothing, nothing you do, will ever change that. I don’t regret having you as a son, I never did, I never will. I am _proud_ of you, Ben. I am proud of you for killing that bastard Snoke. I’m proud of you for taking the power you were given and doing something good with it. You’re a helluva better person than I ever was, kid.” Then there’s that smile, the one that’s a smirk but with a deceiving softness that only those closest to Han Solo could detect. It’s one reserved for a very few, select people in the old smuggler’s life: his wife, his co-pilot, and his son, specifically. 

“But you’ve definitely gotten your old man’s knack for piloting. That TIE of yours is pretty sweet, isn’t she?” Han says with a low whistle, letting him slip back into the role of the pirate, the playboy, the man who made the Kessel Run in twelve parsecs and wants everyone to know it. It’s a comforting place for him, and in many ways, for Ben. It feels right and familiar, like how adult fathers and sons are supposed to talk. 

“Custom designed by me,” Kylo half-grunts, nodding in acknowledgement. 

“You handle her pretty well. Like a Solo,” Han grins, knowing the weight those words carry. 

Another silence looms between the pair, but this time, it’s filled with something closer to understanding and absolution, rather than the awkward, intense gaps from before. It’s a moment for Han and Ben Solo to just be for a moment, soaking in each other’s presence. Ben knows (and he is Ben now, ready and willing to wear that moniker, if only in this moment) that his father’s time is growing shorter and shorter, the blue tinge of his Force-delivered spirit growing lighter and lighter with each passing breath. Both wish they had longer, that Han was more corporeal so he could hug his son one last time, brush the now scarred cheek like he had before. But they know such actions would culminate in disappointment, making the end of their time unnecessarily bitter.

“Take care of the girls for me,” Han asks, and now it’s Ben’s turn to smirk.

“Which one?”

“Good question. Rey’s, well, Rey can handle herself, I’ve seen her with a staff. Your mother - Gods only know that woman is a force to be reckoned with on a good day, so, I guess that leaves-“ at this, Han’s eyes trail forward, towards the cockpit of his old ship, his longest love and second-most loyal companion. 

“If you think Chewie’s gonna let me near the _Falcon_ ,” Ben starts and Han cuts him off.

“Nah, but he’ll let Rey near it, and something tells me where she goes, you go. It’s not a bad way to live, in the wake of a spitfire woman. Just treat her better than I did.” Han says, and they both know he’s no longer talking about his ship.

There’s a deeper sapphire shimmer from behind Han, and Kylo looks over his father’s shoulder to see his grandfather there, waiting. The look on his face tells Ben what he already senses.

**It’s time, Ben.**

“That weird blond guy’s back, isn’t he?” Han asks, Anakin Skywalker’s presence so strong in the Force that even his completely Force-less father can sense it. It finally dawns on Ben Solo that his father has no idea who escorted him from the void, or that his tour guide happened to be his notorious father-in-law. This notion is confirmed by Han’s next words. “Who the Hell is that guy, anyways?”

At this, Ben Solo sighs, his eyes meeting his grandfather’s far too amused gaze. 

Why, in the name of the Force, did his family have to be so kriffing complicated?

“Trust me, you don’t want to know, Dad.” 

For once in his life, or, well, afterlife, Han Solo actually listens to his son. His grizzled lips press together, a mimicry of the same look he’s received from his exasperated wife far too many times. 

There’s another pause, broken only by the sound of Anakin impatiently clearing his throat.

“Tell your mother she was right, okay? You know how she loves to hear that.” Ben rolls his eyes at this, although he doesn’t argue. 

“And… do me a favor, Ben. Now that you’re Supreme Leader or whatever, make sure all those assholes out there know a Solo rules over them. For me, at least.” 

It’s an odd request, one that stops Ben Solo (and the approaching Anakin Skywalker) in their respective tracks. Through the nebulous ties of this Force-infused dream world, Ben can read the sentiment behind his father’s words. The insecurities, the way he was just a smuggler, a pirate, a pilot, a consort. A nothing, to many, a fool who got lucky and married far above his class. That pride of someone who came from nothing, one Kylo recognizes in Rey, that same scrappiness, the desire to belong, to prove one’s place. 

“I’ll see what I can do,” Ben promises. He’d said the same words to his parents many times in the past, about tempering his rage, quelling his anger, trying to be a little less of an angsty teen and more of the prince the galaxy expected. He’d never meant it when he said it then.

It’s different now. 

Han throws him another grin, right as he turns to leave with Anakin. “Ben,” he rasps, his voice becoming fainter and fainter. “I love you.”

Ben responds in the only acceptable way for a Solo: “I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for riding the Solo Family Feels Train. We appreciate you choosing to travel with us today, and hope you come again soon. Please make sure the feels have come to a complete stop before you disembark. 
> 
> Translation: I hope I did Han and Ben justice. This scene has been written and re-written many times, and I really hope I got the tone right because I wanted to do Han right. I wanted it to be beautiful and emotionally intense, because father-son relationships are powerful - especially Han and Ben's. I also want to give extra thanks to SaturnineFeline for helping me with the end and handling the Anakin aspect on TWD tonight. She saved this fic from going off the deep end, as I always do, and the chapter is so much better thanks to her! I also want to thank kcmarsala on TWD for making sure the Qi'Ra part worked with the storyline, as I have yet to see _Solo_. 
> 
> If you'd like to join me for a good cry now, I'll be hanging out in the comments with Kleenex.


	34. Castle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo deals with the emotional fallout from his meeting with his father's spirit, while Rey worries for her lover's emotional well-being. Meanwhile, Kittara learns some disturbing new information about Hux's plans, and all three of our heroes prepare for the final Force Ghost showdown.

Rey wakes up tucked in Kylo’s arms, nestled snugly against his chest like a human teddy bear. She’d barely found the strength to pull herself back to their shared chambers last night, after she’d channeled the Force to help call Han Solo’s spirit back from the void. She knew, however, Ben would need her; could detect his swirling emotions through their Bond even if she couldn’t see the contents of his dream. She felt his sadness, his regret for his father, his mother, the loss of their family.

For a young Ben Solo, who never had a chance to begin with. 

So she’d mustered enough energy to return and crawl into bed with him, where he uncurled from the fetal position to wrap himself around her body. She’d fallen asleep the moment his arms encircled her, clutching her to him, and apparently hadn’t moved since. 

She holds him back now, grasping him just as tightly as he cries silent tears that drip into her hair, rubbing little circles down his back to soothe him. 

Rey’s glad that they’ve purposely kept their schedule light today, under the guise of beginning their travels to Cantonica for the summit. Her slumber has done little to cleanse the exhaustion from her bones, and her joints feel like they’re filled with concrete. She’ll need the rest to regain her strength, as she can’t show any weakness once they arrive at Cantonica. Kylo could also do with an off-day, clearly needing the time to process, to mourn.

Secretly, Rey worries that this is too much for her lover. Forcing him to confront his past, his _parents_ , that it’s all too much too soon. 

Really, her concern isn’t so much about Han and Leia, but about the one still to come.

Luke.

The meetings with Han and Leia, while emotionally taxing for the fallen Jedi, had at least been productive, with Ben and his parents able to start down the long road to forgiveness at the conclusion of each one. But Luke, Rey knows, is a wholly different story. After all, Luke already had the opportunity to talk to Kylo once, back on Crait, and had chosen to goad him instead. Mocked him, stoking his anger, his darkness. Rey would like to say that this was all due to Luke’s goal of distracting his nephew to allow the Resistance’s escape, but she knows better. 

After all, she’d spent long enough on Ahch-To to learn just how deep the old Jedi’s bitterness went. 

This is why Rey worries, why she questions the necessity of Kylo and Luke conversing one last time through the Force. After all, Luke hadn’t been willing to accept responsibility for his actions, and the consequences thereof, when it was just him and Rey and she had him pinned down by her saber. Why would he do it now? 

What was the point of all this if it wasn’t for Luke to apologize?

Still, she keeps her reservations buried deep in the recesses of her mind, quarantined from where they could leak into the Bond. Rey knows Kylo’s apprehensive enough about seeing Luke again, can feel echoes of pure, unadulterated _fear_ every time he thinks about it. She won’t allow her own doubts to further poison his mind. 

‘You have to have faith,’ she reminds herself, and she does. She believes in Kylo, and Anakin and Ahsoka. 

They all know the price of failure. 

At the very least, Rey’s resolved to stay awake when the time comes for Kylo and Luke’s meeting. That way, she can observe him through the Bond - or at least, get a read on how things are going. Maybe she can even yank him out of the dream if it goes too far south, she thinks. 

There’s no more wetness dropping onto her scalp and Ben’s shoulders (because this delicate, broken boy clinging to her is Ben, she knows) stop shaking. He’s lost in his own thoughts, she can see, reminiscing on the proud way his father talked about his boy, a Solo, taking the throne. 

She can’t help but smile in response. 

On the nightstand, Rey’s commlink pings. Kylo loosens one arm around her so that she can pull it towards her with the Force, and she turns her head so she can read the message. 

—Kittara Ren: How’s he doing?—

Rey’s already learned how to type out text comms with the Force, and so she doesn’t need to free her other hand to respond.

—Rey: Better than either of us expected, I think.—

—Kittara Ren: Good.—

There’s a silence, and right before Rey moves to put the commlink away it pings again.

—Kittara Ren: Do you think you both could meet with me in an hour? We have a bit of a scheduling issue.—

Rey chews her lip, trying to ignore the way trepidation twists her stomach. A “scheduling issue” sounds innocent enough, but they were already on such a tight timeline with no room for hiccups. 

—Rey: Give us 45 minutes.—

—Kittara Ren: Thank you.—

—Kittara Ren: I’ll bring caf.—

————————————————————

“What do you mean, you want us to meet with Skywalker tonight?” Kylo roars, fully back to the Supreme Leader Rey’s learned to love as he glares at the tiny holofigure before them. His fist slams down on the table, making the delicate teacups jump and splashing the rich dark liquid beyond their painted rims. Rey watches as the brown drops soak into the white tablecloth, staining it.

It feels vaguely like a metaphor, she thinks through her shock.

“Ahsoka, we are scheduled to leave for Cantonica this afternoon. Delaying our departure any further will not only risk a late arrival to the summit, but also allow Hux an advantage in arriving first.” Kittara explains, her words cautious and deliberate. 

“I know, but that’s exactly the issue. Anakin and I feel that B- Kylo,” the tiny blue figurine quickly corrects herself “needs to confront Luke before the Cantonica summit. Based off your concerns that Hux will strike not long after its conclusion-“

“If that,” Kittara mutters.

“- we need to make sure Kylo’s in the best possible situation to allow him and Rey to reach the Gray and bring balance to the Force.” Ahsoka’s flinty eyes are resolved, but there’s a hint of an apology in them. 

“I don’t need Luke to find balance,” Kylo seethes, fingers wrapping into a fist. 

“Yes, you do, Kylo. Your trauma - which is incredibly reasonable, by the way - is keeping you from accepting the light and Luke is the major source of these feelings.” Ahsoka’s voice is soothing, but Kylo’s hunched stance and continued scowl are evidence that her words don’t have the desired effect. 

“Then why not have me face Snoke, too? Luke wasn’t the only Master that left scars.” 

It always amazes Rey how Kylo tends to admit such poignant, heartbreaking truths when he’s lost in his fury. 

“Because Snoke, for all the terrible things he did to you, isn’t the reason you forsake the Light.” Kittara says softly, before Ahsoka can answer. 

An uncomfortable silence settles over the table. 

“There’s more,” Ahsoka says after a moment, eyes downcast.

“Of course there is,” Kylo mutters, eyes rolling up to the ceiling. 

“We want Rey to be there too. It appears she has her own issues to deal with when it comes to Luke.”

“What?” Rey yelps, and she has to physically restrain herself from leaping out of her seat at the absurdity of Ahsoka’s presumption. There’s a flash of renewed anger from across the Bond as Kylo glowers at Ahsoka dangerously, just as upset as his lover over this revelation. 

“When you both attempted to balance, there were blockades on both sides. I sense that they both stemmed from your experiences with Luke. Rey, he’s made you afraid of the Dark, I could sense it. That’s why you wouldn’t let the Dark in.”

The words _“you went straight for the Dark”_ uttered by a broken old man ring in Rey’s ears, as she remembers the way the Dark turned inky as it moved towards her heart, her soul.

It’s a truth too sour to stomach, and so she rejects it. 

“No,” Rey shakes her head at Ahsoka adamantly, although her voice is just above a whisper. 

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but search your feelings, Rey. You know it to be true.” 

She doesn’t want it to be. She’s buried the hurt and pain of Skywalker’s refusal to teach her, his lies, the way he betrayed Ben and then Rey herself in the moment she needed him most. How he broke her faith in legends, in myths, in that clear divide of right and wrong that she so badly needed to believe in. 

‘But didn’t it need to be broken for you to get here?’ that obnoxious little voice in the back of her head asks, and Rey shakes her head again, this time at both of them. 

“I know this is very sudden, and quite a bit for both of you to process,” Ahsoka explains, spreading her arms out, her palms open as if to say she’s laid it all on the table. “However, we can’t wait any longer. Anakin and I know this is essential, and it _must_ be done before Cantonica. We’re hoping that by you two going together, its somewhat… easier. Knowing you’re not alone. And of course, Luke can’t actually do anything to you there. If you want, we can send Kittara with you to help you both feel more protected.”

Rey can’t help but feel slightly relieved at the idea of Kittara Ren having their backs during this meeting. Sure, Luke shouldn’t be able to physically harm them in the realm of the Force dreams, and Rey doesn’t think he’d actually hurt her (although she didn’t trust him not to try, not after Ahch-To). Nor does she trust him with Kylo, and having some backup would be nice. The sentiment is only magnified by Kylo’s own enthusiasm towards the idea, finding the prospect of his second in command’s presence even more reassuring. 

“If I go, that means we all need to be on the same ship. And we are all unprotected while in the dream.” Kittara points out.

“Or, we could stay here tonight,” Rey suggests, but Kittara shakes her head. 

“No,” she says as her crimson lips twist into a frown. “That puts us too far behind. We’d have to drop out of lightspeed much closer to Cantonica, leaving us far more vulnerable to attack.”

“I thought you said you believe General Hux will wait until after the summit wraps to make his move?” Ahsoka inquires, and all eyes swivel to Kittara.

“I still believe that, although I don’t think he’ll wait very long. But Hux is an opportunist, and he’ll see this as a weakness. While we’d prepare to counter him, we’d be on the defensive and it wouldn’t provide a great start to this summit. In fact, it would probably end the whole thing before we can even land, and it’s too important to our mission objective to jeopardize the summit itself.”

With a sinking feeling, Rey realizes Kittara’s right. Cantonica is their best and only real chance to market their plan of a new order to the Galaxy and gain important allies before Hux strikes. They cannot risk the summit. 

“But having us all on one ship makes us just as vulnerable,” Kylo interjects, his mahogany eyes lost in thought as he mulls things over. “Kittara, do you believe Hux could make his move before the summit begins?”

Kittara ponders his question for a few moments before answering. “Possibly. I’ve recently been able to place a mole in his inner circle of co-conspirators. An officer loyal to me and who could earn a Galactic Academy Award for acting. He reported to me this morning that he’s learned Hux is developing some sort of method of cutting us off from the Force.”

Rey and Kylo both suck in their breath at this news, fear gripping Rey’s stomach. If Hux can cut them off from the Force, they’d be truly at a disadvantage. 

‘You fought without the Force for nineteen years, and survived doing so,’ something inside her subconscious reminds her.

It doesn’t make her feel much better.

“That’s impossible,” Ahsoka scoffs. “The only known way to block the Force are Ysalamiri lizards, and those went extinct forty years ago at Palpatine’s command.” 

“Hux wouldn’t rely on something as basic as an animal,” Kylo comments, his eyes all too knowing. “He’s a man of science.”

“Lucius.” Kittara sighs, and her well-manicured fingers fly to her temples, rubbing at them.

“Who?” Rey asks in unison with Ahsoka.

“Dr. Kai Lucius. He’s a First Order geneticist that lives at our Geonosis facility. He’s considered, to put it politely, a complete and utter sociopath.” Kittara explains. “Coming from me, that should say something.”

“He also has plenty of reason to hate me and work with Hux.” Kylo contemplates aloud, jaw clenching as he speaks. “When I took over as Supreme Leader, I learned he and Hux were working on a virus that targeted Stormtroopers in an event of a mass deprogramming and rebellion. I shut it down, and made sure all the samples and work were destroyed to prevent it from being continued.”

“And Hux was spotted on Geonosis this morning,” Kittara notes grimly. 

“Wait, but how could this Dr. Lucius block us from the Force?” Rey asks, still confused as to the actual plausibility of this threat.

“Midichlorians,” Kittara, Ahsoka and Kylo all say at once, which doesn’t make Rey feel out of the loop at all.

“Excuse me?” she retorts, slightly more bitingly than intended. 

“Midichlorians. Little microscopic organisms that attach to your DNA and help bind you to the Force. Theoretically, the higher the midichlorian count, the more powerful in the Force one is.” Ahsoka states, only for Kylo to jump in, sensing Rey’s desire to get straight to the point of the issue without a long and likely boring biology lesson. 

“From what we know, during your lifespan, your midichlorians become as much as a part of you as your own DNA, your cells, your skin. Each person’s midichlorian population, then, is unique to that person - much like their Force signature. And if you find a way to either destroy them or neutralize them, in theory, you could cut someone off from the Force.” Kylo concludes. 

“So, Hux needs our DNA in order for this to work?” Rey asks after a moment, and all three nod. 

“I suppose that’s the good news: he has to get our DNA first.” Kittara shrugs.

“He already has mine,” Kylo says with a grimace, his plush lips pressed into a thin line. “Snoke had me submit it to a database, all First Order officers had to. It was after Kittara left, though, so you should be safe.”

“And he doesn’t have Rey’s,” Kittara adds, her fingers flying across the screen of her datapad. “At least, there’s none of Rey’s in our system, nor is there any of mine. Just yours, Supreme Leader.”

“So as long as we keep him from collecting our DNA, he can only get to Kylo.”

There’s a long pause.

“I’d imagine he’d need more than a small amount, too,” Kylo muses out loud. “So that’s good.”

Another pregnant silence spans between them before Ahsoka speaks up, her face solemn with concentration. “Does Hux know about the Bond?”

“No,” Kylo shakes his head. “We’ve been very careful to keep that quiet.”

“Good. You may still be able to access the Force through your Bond with Rey, if necessary.” Ahsoka’s expression is the most serious Rey’s ever seen on the Togruta. “But this underscores why you both need to balance as soon as possible.”

“But, if we’re blocked from the Force, or our midichlorians are, how will being balanced help?” Rey asks, sincerely confused at this point. For once, she’s not alone, judging by the faces of the two Knights of Ren.

“This is all me, well, spitballing, but hear me out. The gray is different than the dark or the light. One chooses to follow only one part of the Force, again, that’s why we’re in this mess. There’s a popular theory that choosing a side can warp and change your actual midichlorians, although it’s a change that takes time to take hold.

“But the gray is different. Its a part of the Force that your midichlorians are deeply programmed to tap into. It’s the natural state of the Force, if you will. If the theories are correct, your midichlorians will not only have a stronger, more instinctual connection to tap into it even if blocked from the Dark or the Light; but if it’s still unfamiliar to you when your DNA was harvested-“

“Then the drug won’t be able to block us from accessing it.” Rey finishes for Ahsoka, and the hologram nods in response. 

“Thus returning us to our original problem: you two need to meet with Luke tonight.” the Togruta confirms. 

“Guys?” Kittara interrupts. “I think I have an idea.”

———————————————

Naturally, there’s a large ceremony of Stormtroopers and First Order officers to bid farewell to the Supreme Leader and his two advisors as they depart _Mirrorbright_ for the highly anticipated Cantonica summit. The crowd even includes the families of the officers stationed aboard, children clamoring to get a glimpse of the most powerful Force users in the Galaxy. They shout out in awe at the three Star Destroyers hanging in orbit above, and gape from their parents’ shoulders as they watch the ceremonial marching of Imperial squadrons around the three individual shuttles in a well-choreographed routine. 

The onlookers watch as the petite redhead known as Kittara Ren makes her way to her shuttle, her stride long and purposeful. She pays no mind to the crowd as her black cape billows behind her, and she’s soon up the ramp and out of view. Her shuttle departs for her Star Destroyer, the _Instigator_ , the smallest of the three ships orbiting above (albeit the stealthiest, and rumor has it it can completely cloak itself from even the most advanced detection systems. A ship most befitting Kittara Ren). 

Then comes the Lady Rey, and the crowd here arch their necks to get a better look at the mystical young Jedi who’d chosen to form an alliance with their Supreme Leader. Rumor has it, they whisper, that they’re in love, and the romantics can’t help swooning over how she already looks like a bride in her off-white dress. They prattle on her hair twisted into three buns, such an interesting hairstyle, just like the stories said! When the Lady Rey raises her arm in an almost bashful goodbye wave, the crowd can’t help but cheer, already won over by her graciousness. A good influence on their Leader, they suggest (although in very hushed tones). Many of the children keep waiving as her shuttle rises up, heading for the _Absolution_ , one of the newest Star Destroyers to leave Kuat that Kylo Ren allegedly gifted to his new ally. 

Of course, the crowd saves its loudest jubilations for its Supreme Leader. The tall, black figure makes his way through without paying any mind to it, or to the whispers asking if he sent the Lady Rey ahead to quell the questions around their relationship. The Supreme Leader’s flanked by a stormtrooper on each side, plus his personal guard following close behind. But the Troopers attracted little to no attention- certainly not a second glance from the onlookers. Because of this, not even the most eagle-eyed officers noticed how the two flanking troopers were slightly off in their steps (after all, they’re far accustomed to this thanks to the corruption in their own troops). Nor are they surprised to see that one of the flanking troopers looks a bit short for a Stormtrooper, much less one guarding the Supreme Leader. If they did, they’d brush it off as some sort of reward in return for an act of devout loyalty. After all, they know that this Supreme Leader values loyalty over aesthetics, something they could appreciate. 

Not even the other Troopers noticed something awry as they remained in formation on the shuttle during their short trip to the _Finalizer_. When the two flanking Troopers and the three immediately behind the Supreme Leader broke off to escort him to his chambers, nobody batted an eye except to comment that he’d expanded his guard from three to five - probably as a personal honor to the two new Troopers, meant as a temporary promotion just for that day. Which is why later, not a single Stormtrooper or officer questioned where those two Troopers went during future outings.

Had those remaining Stormtroopers observed what happened once the door shut to Kylo’s chambers, however, they would have been absolutely shocked. Their eyes would’ve bugged out when the shorter Trooper at Kylo’s side peeled off her helmet, revealed the auburn tresses and vermillion lips of Kittara Ren, High Counsel of the First Order and Knight of Ren. They probably would’ve gone into collective hysteria when the other flanking Trooper removed her own helmet, showing the chestnut hair and bright hazel eyes of the Supreme Leader’s (alleged) lover and the mythical “Last Jedi”, the Lady Rey herself.

Kittara scrolls through her datapad as soon as she’s free of the restricting head gear, checking to make sure they’d truly made it without suspicion. “I think we pulled it off. Everyone believes that I’m on my Destroyer and Rey’s on the _Absolution_. No one’s even questioning the order to leave us undisturbed in our chambers until we reach Cantonica. Our monitoring systems are in place, and our body doubles are enjoying their rewards of luxury and rest for the next day cycle.” Kittara smirks, basking in the glow of her success. “Your plan worked perfectly, Ahsoka.”

“Glad to hear it,” Ahsoka responds through the nearly invincible voice-comms embedded in each of their ears. “Now, the real fun begins.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wonder where Ahsoka got the idea to use body doubles, hmm? 
> 
> (It's like I cannot resist any opportunity to reference the PT or OT. Someone help me.)
> 
> As I'm sure you all have noticed, my updates aren't as regular as they used to be. I'm no longer sticking to the die-hard "one update a week" schedule because I really want to concentrate on quality and making sure I don't miss one of the many moving parts in this story. (Plus, writing action scenes are hard, yo.) I will still *try* to hit one update a week, but they may come on a Sunday, Monday, Tuesday or whenever work allows. I will definitely be updating on a biweekly basis at *minimum*. I really appreciate all of you who've stuck with me and this fic so far, and left me so much love and support in the comments. I hope y'all stay with me till the end, because we are almost there.


	35. Forgiven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo Ren finally faces his uncle. But will he find forgiveness? Or will this go exactly how we expect it to?

Long ago, Rey once thought all deserts looked the same. That they all had the same orange-tinted sand, all made up of coarse grains and small pieces of pummeled rock that flaked off the nearby fire-dipped mesas. 

But then Rey finally broke free of Jakku, never to return except in her nightmares. And she learned that even deserts are diverse, of the different kinds of sand and shades of brown and tan that fill them. 

That’s how she knows she’s not back on Jakku, she thinks as she takes in the scene around her. The sand here’s been bleached by the twin suns in the sky, lighter and finer than Jakku’s crumb-like granules. The wind here easily blows it about, fine particles slipping beneath her clothes, her hair, her nostrils. 

But just like Jakku, the desert here is barren, abandoned - a no man’s land only fit for those who want to forget. 

Or to be forgotten. 

She pushes the gnawing dread in her stomach down, so it doesn’t mix with the sand and form a lump in her throat. Everything here in this dreamworld feels slightly too bright, too vivid. The Force here feels like actual static in the air, crackling in her fingertips. It’s so potent that Rey can actually see her Bond with Kylo Ren twisting in the dry desert breeze, red and gold strands braided together. She follows it to where he stands, his handsome, rugged face twisted in a grimace. His long lashes flutter rapidly, blinking away the bits of sand assaulting his eyes. 

Their Bond’s amplified here too, and of course it is, this odd fake world created from a patchwork of memories and nightmares. It’s like their thoughts echo here, exposing even the parts they’ve kept private so that nothing is a secret. It’s why she forces the lump down, willing it away as fast as she can. She doesn’t need to make Kylo’s anxiety worse. Rey can feel his trepidation, and it increases as he spies as a hooded figure appears on the horizon, trudging towards them.

Then the sands shift like an eyelid blinking, and in that second the figure’s closer, close enough for Rey to see he’s wearing the mud-brown robes she’d last seen her former teacher in, the robes of a Jedi. 

She can’t help but think it’s fitting, the way he clings to his status, to the Light, even here in the afterlife. 

Her thoughts echo around them, spoken in her voice as if she’d actually said the words aloud. Behind her, she feels Kittara’s agreement, and the way their friend, their guardian, wraps her hand around her saber, ready to draw it if needed. 

The dream world blinks again and this time, Rey finds Luke Skywalker staring her down. He’s still got same icy, disappointed look that she’s always known him to have, his blue eyes mocking and dismissive. 

Rey reaches, meeting Kylo’s hand where it’s already reaching for hers (as if they had the same thoughts, same mind) and their fingers lace together. 

_Together_ , they remind each other, and his heartbeat slows from a canter to a gallop as she hears him remind himself _It’s just Luke, it’s just Luke, you’ve beaten him before. He’s already dead, he can’t kill you now. It’s just Luke._

“What a surprise,” Luke says, sarcasm dripping off his words like water from a rose. “My last three surviving, errant students. I told you I’d see you around, Ben.” There’s a smirk, unbefitting a Jedi, one would think, and Rey feels anxiety coil around Kylo’s heart like a snake. 

“Tell me, Ben, have you come to forgive me? To save my soul?” Luke continues, his words mocking, sour. 

For a second, the figures blur and Rey sees two wolves growling at each other in the distance, one black, one grey. Alpha posturing, each trying to assert their dominance as they circle, and then they vanish, a mirage in the sands of this made-up world.

Kylo’s pack tenses around him, Kittara and Rey drawing close, offering their protection. A reminder that he’s not alone.

_You’re not alone,_ Rey reminds him, the same promise they’d exchanged so many times since he first spoke them on Ahch-To, and her words echo across the dunes, boomeranging around.

He responds with a tightened grip, as if he’s afraid Rey herself will turn to sand and slip through his fingers. 

Rey’s words draw Luke’s stare, displeased, as if Rey has again interrupted him from something far more worthy, far more important. 

_He never wanted you, just like they never wanted you. He knew you were tainted, worthless_ , her subconscious whispers in her ear, like it’s a living, breathing person, breath hot and sticky. 

“Tell me, Rey, were those pretty brown eyes worth all that you threw away? Living in the lap of luxury, playing along as his concubine while he continues to build his empire?”

His taunts sting like the lashing of a whip, landing blows that raise welts on her skin. She knows he is wrong, of course, knows that he is intentionally mischaracterizing her role, their work, all they’ve done, but it is as if he’s spoken her deepest insecurities aloud.

Lightning, black tinted white, streaks down from the sky with a crack that makes her ears ring. The smell of sand burnt into glass fills her nostrils, and Rey’s eyes widen as she sees black oil bubbling up from the smoldering dune behind them. 

“How dare you! She is more powerful, more than you could ever know.“ Kylo shouts, his voice filled with murder, hate, blackness. It’s as if Luke drives him further into the Dark with every moment of his presence, pushing him further and further off balance. 

“Yes,” Rey says, loud, confident in her answer to Luke’s questions. “He’s worth it.” And then, “I am worth it.” 

“Is that so?” Luke smirks, and for a second, Rey falters, allows a sliver of doubt to sneak in that he is right, that her doubts are true and this is impossible, and she is nothing, nothing but a street rat, unwanted, undeserving, a pawn in everyone else’s game. 

Kylo’s saber hisses to life, raw and crackling, thirsting for blood. She tastes fury, Kylo’s, in her mouth like blood at the implications at his words, that she was anything but worthy, her, his goddess, his light, and she wraps herself in his love, stretching it around her like a shield.

“Is that why you came here? To try to strike me down again, Ben? To finish what you started?” Luke taunts, and Kylo’s left leg slides out, bringing him into his fighting stance. 

He drops Rey’s hand, and hisses back, “What you started.” His voice is raw, and in his eyes Rey sees the reflection of a terrified boy staring at his master’s saber.

Ebony ribbons start to slowly streak down the dune behind them, viscous and lazy in their advance. She feels a rush of fear at the sight of the Dark staining the bleached sand beneath it inky black, polluting everything it touches. 

Just like when she tried to balance, when they tried to balance, and failed.

Just like they’re failing now, she cannot help but think. They were supposed to come here to find absolution, or perhaps, grant it, but she feels none of that here, forgiveness and mercy as foreign as water to these sands, she thinks. 

_Is that why you’re here, child?_ An old voice whispers, wry and playfully warm. Rey jerks her head around, searching the sands for the familiar, diminutive form of Maz Kanata, for she knew that was her voice she heard. 

But there is no sign of the pirate queen, nor any indication that anyone else heard it. 

_Why am I here? Why are we here?_ She asks herself. There must be a reason she heard Maz, her words meant something, a reminder-

“You went straight for the Dark.” Luke told her once, and he’s looking at her now with those inquisitive blue eyes, the ones more familiar to her, tinged with apprehension, with fear.

Fear.

When did she start to fear the Dark? she wonders as she watches a long tendril of black snaking over the sand, winding its way towards her. It is hypnotizing in the way it weaves, deceptively fast for something so thick, and she cannot help but take a step back, adding some distance.

It was not on _Starkiller_ , where she called on the Dark, the Light, the Force in its most primal form to beat back Kylo Ren.

It was not on Ahch-To, neither when she first engaged with the Force, or when she dove into the cave to seek the truths she already knew. 

She’d even let it slip in on _the Supremacy_ , despite the wariness in her heart towards the Dark Side, well instilled by that point. 

By Luke.

_“He’s made you afraid of the Dark,”_ Ahsoka had told her, and she hadn’t wanted to admit that the old Togruta was right then. 

But why was she afraid, she asks herself, why did she allow his fear to become hers? For she knew he was afraid of the Dark, so afraid that he shunned his own nephew, attempted to kill him in cold blood, a moment of true Darkness but yet bathed in Light.

_“Kylo failed you. I won’t!”_ the words are Rey’s, another old memory but this time dredged up so that all can hear and she cringes. Silently, she reassured Ben through the Bond that this was said before, in what feels like ages ago. 

Back when she didn’t know his past, didn’t know his soul. Back when she thought him unworthy of the family, of the parents, the opportunities bestowed upon him. 

Back when she said those words, she just wanted to be worthy, too. 

Worthy of someone staying. 

Worthy of someone. 

To someone. 

“You are nothing to this story,” Kylo’s words now, clear, unfaltering, and Rey can feel embers hitting her skin, the sting of failure, of rejection, unworthiness making her throat close.

_**No.**_ Kylo, her Kylo, her Ben, her prince, her equal, the Kylo of present now tells her, hearing her through the Bond as clearly as she can hear how he regrets those words. 

_**You are worth everything to me. You are worthy.** _

_“How long will you run from your fears, young Rey?”_ Maz again, and this time, she knows the others hear it. Kylo’s head shoots up, searching for the source and Luke actually flinches. 

The oil advances.

Suddenly, she understands.

One booted foot steps forward, pushing the sand down. The sound of granules scraping against each other is loud, ringing in her ears but she does not doubt, and she lifts the other foot in front of her.

The black rises up, as if curious, sentient. 

“Rey, don’t! Once you touch the Dark, once you allow it to stain you-“ Luke warns, but Rey silences him with the raising of her hand.

For once, the old Skywalker stops talking. 

**”Nu isar nenx naile tave jen.** ” She says, slowly rotating her hand around like she’s approaching a luggabeast, offering it her scent. 

When the black oil first wraps around her palm, her wrist, it feels wet, hot, almost scalding and she wants to jerk her arm back. But she refuses to allow that fear to win, swallowing it down and as the ink moves its way up her arm her skin acclimates, and the warmth feels almost soothing, comforting. 

She takes her fingers from her free hand, scooping some of the liquid up and spreading it onto her face like it is makeup, letting it stain her freckled cheeks as it seeps into her pores.

“You’ll never be free of it now. You’ll be tainted forever.” Luke whispers, horrified, disgusted, and Rey just smiles.

“You have no idea how wrong you are,” she responds, calm and serene, the warmth surging through her body. This time she welcomes it, throwing open every door as if she’s welcoming an old friend home. 

“You were so afraid of the Dark, Luke. That fear, that poisoned you, ate away at your soul, didn’t it? It’s why you allowed yourself to believe that killing Ben Solo was right, why you betrayed your own nephew. And when you realized you created Kylo Ren, your fear tainted your mind, prevented you from accepting that the _Light_ encouraged you to do it, that terrible act. You lied to yourself, to everyone, by believing it was a moment of Dark.

“So you ran, you fled. You hid. A coward. And even now, in death, your fear of the Dark Side still rules you.” Rey exudes serenity while she speaks, eyes distant, as if focused on something far away. 

“You’re so afraid of becoming your father, you got lost in the Light. But you are wrong, Luke. You can embrace the Dark, allow it to stain you, but it will not rule you. Not unless you allow it to. And I am worthy, free to take both. I am worthy of the Force.”

As she says this, the ink staining her skin suddenly dries clear, invisible even as she feels it singing through her veins, embracing the light and dancing, swirling, like lovers reunited. The black oil snaked around her arm turns clear, cool, pure water washing over her and dripping onto the sands below. 

Tiny little bits of green sprout from the barren earth, new life in this dead desert, born not by Light or Dark but _the Force._

And something right unfurls in her stomach, a feeling that this is how it is meant to be, how it’s always meant to have been, whispered in the air and the earth and the sun around her. 

_**My Goddess,**_ Ben whispers, his dark eyes filled with awe, love.

_It’s time, Ben,_ she responds, beckoning him forward. _Face your fear, that’s why we’re here. What we must do._

And she knows now that she is right, that this was never about obtaining forgiveness or vindication from the Last Jedi, that this was about forgiving themselves.

Determining their own self-worth. 

Their own destinies. 

But Kylo’s unsure, she sees it in his eyes, the way he sucks in his lower lip as he inches towards the water, towards her hand. She feels the molecules slowing, the water becoming colder and colder against her skin as it infuses with Light, icy brilliance and scorching cold. 

The Dark inside of her keeps the desert girl warm. 

Right when Kylo’s hand is above hers, right as he works himself up to touch it, her, join her _by my side, together, where we are meant to be, our destiny_ Luke interrupts.

“He can’t do it, he won’t. He’s too far gone, Rey, too Dark to accept the Light.”

“That’s not how the Force works!” she snaps back, frustrated, and her voice echoes back in Sith, as if she speaks with the authority of the Force itself. 

Her objection comes too late. Kylo flinches, withdrawing his hand ever so slightly, just an inch as she hears his self doubt whispering to him, affirming Luke’s condemnation. 

Telling him he is not worthy.

_You are, my love,_ she promises.

Their eyes lock, like they have so many times before. In battle, in whispered conversations and to form conspiracies, keep secrets. In bed, with her beneath him as he thrusts, taking, giving, filling her with him in a ritual as old as the Force itself. 

_I trust you._

“You’re wasting your time, Rey.” She can feel Luke rolling his eyes but she pays him no mind. He is wrong, and so she cares not about what he says.

_You are worthy. You deserve this, Ben._

His hand lowers, tentative, like a child reaching to stroke a chained lothcat and Rey’s breath catches. 

The icicle surges forward, meeting him halfway. It wraps around his wrist, the sound of ice cracking and calving filling the air with violence.

_Trust yourself, Ben,_ she urges, feeling him start to tense, to resist. _Trust in the Force._

There’s a roaring sound, something rushing and tumbling, building in ferocity before it ends in a loud snap.

The sand fades, and Rey reaches for Ben.

————————-

It’s a blink of an eye for Ben, and then he’s gone from the sand dunes of Tatooine to the molten red of Mustafar, heat and sulfur stinging at his sandblasted eyeballs. 

Luke stands before him, looking equally perplexed until he realizes where they are, and then his expression shifts to annoyance. 

“Really?” he asks the heavens, but there is no response. 

Panic rises like bile in Kylo’s throat, sour and choking as he looks around and realizes he is alone. No Rey, no Kittara, nothing. 

‘You’re on home turf,’ he reminds himself, feeling the familiar embrace of Darkness rising from the baked earth, welcoming Kylo back into its folds.

“I told her you were too far gone,” Luke shakes his head, sighing in his usual melodramatic manner.

Something snaps, this time, inside of Kylo. 

“Is that why I was never worth saving, Uncle?” The title is spat as if it’s made of poison, and rage boils in his blood. “Darth Vader was worth your redemption, but I never was. Tell me, Uncle, was he never too far gone? Or were you just afraid to face your failure?”

“I already apologized for failing you, Ben,” Luke says calmly, like they’re discussing stolen leftovers and not attempted murder. 

“Oh, yes, of course, and that makes it all kriffing better.”

“What do you want from me, Ben?” Luke sighs, and it only stokes the fire of his fury. 

“I want you to tell me why. Why I wasn’t worth you saving.” Spittle flies out from Kylo’s mouth as he forces the words out, ignoring the sting the admission brings. 

“That’s not true, Ben, I-“

“LIAR!” he roars, refusing to let his uncle continue. He takes a menacing step forward, and despite the fact that the old Jedi’s nothing but a soul (and thus, immune from dying again), he steps back, almost losing his balance on the uneven lava rock he’s perched upon. 

He says nothing, however, a blessing in its own right. 

“You accused me of darkness, when I was still clinging to the Light. When I needed you most, Uncle, you forsook me, betrayed me in my sleep. Do you know how that moment haunts me, Uncle? How many times that replays in my nightmares? Does that warm your twisted soul, knowing what you did to me, how you broke me? Or does it secretly bring you joy, and that’s why you never came for me? Did you finally feel like a father, after you killed Han Solo’s son? Are you proud of the child you created, Uncle? Tell me, are you proud of Kylo Ren?” The dark knight’s voice breaks a bit at the end, acid biting at his uvula, tonsils, burning in his mouth. 

He continues talking despite this, the dam broken. 

“My mother, my father, we all trusted you, Luke. You tore us apart. Does that make you happy, knowing you took everything from my mother that you never had?”

The invocation of Leia finally spurs a reaction from the shocked old man, and his jaw snaps shut. “Don’t you dare bring your mother into this.” he growls, warningly, squaring up his shoulders as if to instill some sense of authority in his words. 

“Is that why you hid from her? Are you hiding from her again, now that she knows you murdered her son?”

“Ben Solo is still alive.” It’s meant to jar him, to put him on edge and make him deny the existence of the boy named after his mother’s last hope. Three months ago it would have, three months ago the name itself would have triggered black rage.

Things have changed. 

“He is, but not as the boy you once knew. You killed his innocence, his trust. You broke him. And he rebuilt himself as Kylo Ren.”

Luke blinks, surprised at the unexpected response from his volatile nephew. Kylo can’t help but smirk, victorious at shutting the old man up twice in the same conversation. 

“No, Snoke created the character of Kylo Ren.” he croaks, once he’s fished a retort out of his brain. Kylo can’t help but think that he’s using the same tired playbook, the one that used to work, but now Kylo knows his games. 

“No. Ben Solo created Kylo Ren. I created Kylo Ren. And I am everything you fear, aren’t I, uncle? I’ve finally become your nightmare. Because I am not afraid anymore. Because I know I was worth saving. And I know you failed me, not the other way around.” The last part is hissed, but as they squeeze through Kylo’s clenched teeth they take his remaining anger with him. 

The fire in his veins sputters, then goes dark. 

“I do not need your forgiveness, Uncle. Nor do I need to forgive you. My redemption no longer hinges upon you.” Kylo talks slowly, as the truth dawns on him at the same time he speaks it. 

He doesn’t feel spent, blank, there’s no exhaustion rattling his bones like he normally does after releasing his rage.

He feels free.

Something wet hits his forehead. Then another drop on the top of his exposed ear, black waves tucked behind it. 

Rain, he thinks, even though it doesn’t rain on Mustafar. 

(Or at least, the rain isn’t water. But this is, he can feel the cool drops hitting his face like a Chandrilan rainstorm, pattering against the leather of his suit.)

The ground hisses in protestation, still hot lava rock seething at the touch of the cooler rain. It should evaporate into steam, but instead, the onyx ground absorbs it and the red haze of heat dims until Kylo can no longer see it. 

Ben Solo raises his eyes back to his uncle’s. He sees shock and grief reflected in them, a mirror of his own eyes on Crait. 

The old man starts to fade away. For a second, Kylo’s set on letting him fade away without a farewell, having said all he needs to say. 

But then again, he’s a Skywalker and a Solo, and cannot let a good opportunity to be a little shit go to waste.

“See you around, Uncle,” he waves, almost giddy with relief as Luke Skywalker grows more and more translucent. 

Kylo Ren forgot that Luke Skywalker always has to have the last word. 

It’s why holiday dinners were always so damn miserable in his family. 

“May the Force be with you, Ben.” Luke’s so faded that the words are almost ghostly, haunting, but they only add to the feeling of resolution encasing Kylo.

He turns to walk away, but freezes when he looks at the ground. 

A small, green tendril pokes out of the black, stubborn and contrite in its existence. 

Existing where it has no right to exist, beating the odds around it. 

Proof that nobody’s ever really gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nu isar nenx naile tave jen. = I am not afraid of the Dark in Sith (roughly). 
> 
> Hoo, boy, this fucking chapter. You're looking at the 7th re-write of it (and I do mean complete re-writes of a whole chapter) because I knew where I needed them to go, I knew what needed to happen, but GOD, these Skywalkers just do not play along. Anyways, one thing I really wanted to make clear was that this was not about Kylo being forgiven by Luke, but about Kylo forgiving himself, Kylo finding his own closure (because Luke is a drama queen who won't just surrender and will probably try to say that he wanted Kylo and Rey to do it on their own). Hopefully, that came out and y'all understand why I went the way I did. Also, please forgive any typos, I kinda went to a "fuck it" place at the end of my edit there.
> 
> And yes, I blatantly stole some of the imagery from the Season 4 Season finale of BTVS where Buffy meets the First Slayer in her dreams. IT'S AN UNDERRATED EPISODE, MMKAY?
> 
> Huge thanks to the folks over at TWD for helping me write what is the final version of this chapter, and breaking me out of my writer's funk. You guys rock. And thank you to all of you for leaving all the support and love on my last chapter. I promise you, we're close to the end and I will see this fic there, and I appreciate you guys giving me more time to write and edit to make sure this is quality (ish). I'm also working on a Reylo Witchy-AU one-shot for Halloween that'll probably end with smut, so keep your eyes out for that. 
> 
> Next chapter: It's time for Cantonica, baby! Kylo unveils his Plan (TM) to the universe, Hux is being suspiciously nice, and naturally, there are some uninvited guests at the Summit. Sounds like Kittara is gonna have another rage blackout!


	36. Little Moments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo and Rey have a tender moment while pondering the consequences of their Force-dream showdown with Luke Skywalker.

When Kylo awakens from his dream encounter with his Uncle’s Force ghost, he’s expecting to feel different. 

After all, he’s reached the gray, right? After all that balancing and psychotherapy in the forms of Force dreams, not to mention the eventful showdown with Luke Skywalker, things should feel different, he thinks. 

But when he wakes up on the cold hard floor of his bedchambers, all he feels is a crick in his neck and pressure on his legs from where Kittara Ren’s head is resting on his ankles, still slumbering deeply. 

Kylo props himself on his elbows so he can better observe his surroundings. Rey’s stirring slightly, her back facing him and curled up on herself for warmth. Kylo gently tugs her towards him so she can curl up against him. 

Hazel eyes blink open as Rey joins the waking world once again. Confusion mires her lovely features, and before Rey can say anything, Kylo raises his finger to his lips in a silent “shhh”. He points towards the softly snoring head of Kittara Ren as explanation. 

Together they take in the sight of their violent psychopath asleep, noting the dark purple bruises under her eyes, barely visible under artfully applied concealer. The signs of exhaustion in her paler than usual skin, her hands still clenched into fists while she slept. Kylo knows Kittara’s been burning both ends of the candle in her preparations for Cantonica, but he hadn’t taken the time to appreciate how much she’d sacrificed for him, for Rey. 

For their safety. 

Kittara Ren may be sarcastic, homicidal, and slightly unhinged, but her loyalty runs deeper than anyone knows and Kylo’s overcome with gratitude for his First Knight. His Counselor huffs faintly in her sleep, her body unwilling to end its much needed rest. Kylo calls a pillow and a blanket from his bed to them with the Force. 

_There’s no way she lets you move without waking up._ Rey’s looking at him with a bemused smile, and Kylo shrugs.

_**I know.**_ He tucks the blanket around his sleeping knight’s body, resigned to his fate of immobility until she awakens. 

Rey stands with a stretch, rolling her shoulders out as she does so, and pads towards the small kitchenette in their chambers to flick a hot water heater on and make herself some tea. The small black cylinder soon starts hissing as white steam unfurls from its slotted vents. Thankfully, the heater’s discreet, and signals the water’s heated to the appropriate temperature with a muffled click. 

While Rey steeps their tea, Kylo tucks the pillows behind him so he can sit comfortably without disturbing Kittara. Rey returns to the sitting area with a steaming black mug for him, which he accepts with a half smile and a (hopefully) gracious stare. 

She slides back down onto the cold floor so she’s sitting next to him, curling her small body against him for warmth. Kylo wraps his free arm around Rey, tucking her back to his side. He knows she’s still adapting to the chill of space, his desert rose still not used to the kind of cold that seeps into your bones. His eyes scan her body protectively, noting the slightly raised chillbumps adorning her still tanned skin. He’d half-expected her bronzed glow to have faded by now, with how long Kylo’s kept her sequestered from the sun (not voluntarily, mind you, as he loves seeing Rey bathed in sunlight). However, years of baking under Jakku’s sun ensures that her skin stays that lovely light honey color that Kylo loves.

The Supreme Leader takes a long sip of his tea, letting the sweetness of the sugar syrup Rey loves adding wash over his tongue, chasing away the harsh tannins. A long sigh escapes him after he swallows, a breath he wasn’t aware he’d been holding. 

One he might have been holding for years, he thinks, ever since he first fled the flaming wreckage of Luke Skywalker’s failed Jedi Academy. 

Relief washes over Kylo as he realizes that it is truly over now, his purgatory of self-flagellation and an ever-present sense of doom. He’s faced Luke Skywalker, his traitorous uncle that drove him to the Dark, to Snoke, and walked away not just unscarred but… Lighter. His soul feels unburdened, his fears feel farther away. No longer do shadows stalk his subconscious, his demons sated and slumbering much like his First Knight. 

He feels calm, truly at peace for the first time that he can ever remember. It’s not the post-coital content that he’s used to experiencing since he and Rey became intimate; no. This is something different, something he can’t quite explain. It feels both empowering and yet he feels full, like he’s gorged himself on a decadent, hearty meal. 

The Force still feels unsettled, yes; but the balance feels closer, like a door’s been unlocked and they now hold the key.

It’s just a matter of opening it. 

Agreement flutters through the Bond, an indication from Rey that she feels the same way. Kylo should feel annoyed that she’s listening to his inner monologue, and two weeks ago, he absolutely would. But he’s come to understand that being Bondmates, soulmates, all the clichés one uses to describe a connection like his and Rey’s, means sharing more than you’ve ever intended. 

A concept that no longer scares the living kriff out of him. 

_She’s going to be furious that we didn’t wake her, you know._ Rey’s cheeks burn as she blushes, pulling him out of his thoughts with a silent nod towards Kittara. _She’ll want to have started preparing for Cantonica as soon as we woke up._

_**Preparations can wait a little longer.**_ Kylo brushes a kiss into the top of Rey’s head, the bare hand around her shoulder gently rubbing along her skin. He used to flinch from skin on skin contact for so long, but ever since his fingertips brushed Rey’s, he’s been addicted to her touch. _**Kittara’s earned that much.**_

_I don’t disagree. I just also don’t want to face her wrath._

_**I’ll take the fall,**_ Kylo almost chuckles, catching the noise in his throat before it escapes. _**Until then, let’s enjoy the peace while we have it.**_

‘After all,’ he admits to himself, ‘it’s the last bit of it we’ll have for awhile.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know that friend that you have that'll do anything for you, even if it means they'll probably catch a felony? That's Kittara Ren, and Kylo Ben is so damn lucky to have her. 
> 
> Also, please enjoy the beautiful moodboard made by Bunilicious. She is spoiling me, y'all, and I am not worthy. 
> 
> More notes at the end of the next chapter, its a double update day, y'all!


	37. Seeing Red Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang finally makes it to Cantonica, and golly gee, look at all their old friends just waiting to see them. Don't you love reunions?
> 
> Yeah, me neither.

Rey appears in the hallway before him, a vision in white that steals Kylo’s breath from his chest, snatching the recycled air from betwixt his lips. 

He knew, of course, that Kittara and the Order’s designers worked tirelessly on Rey’s dress for Cantonica, one that required she be whisked away from his presence to prepare her. He also knew that she’d be stunning in whatever Kittara clothed her in, for Rey could look beautiful in a scavenger’s rags or a Jedi’s robes. 

Kylo Ren did not, however, to expect his enterprising friend to drape Rey’s sun-kissed skin in soft white shimmersilk, her clavicle exposed as well as a demure hint of cleavage. He didn’t anticipate the sleeves that looked like lilies, draping down at the elbows and giving her an aura of power and mystique. He didn’t think he’d be teased with pearlescent fabric tracing the tantalizing outline of Rey’s small waistline, trailing over her hips before draping down her thighs. He didn’t envision the jewel-encrusted choker wrapped daintily around Rey’s fragile throat, links of Nabian silver adorned with Mustafarian fire opals - an opulent tribute to Kylo’s grandparents. Or her petal pink lips, perfectly painted in rosy mauve, a soft contrast to her kohl-lined eyes. 

His vision swims as he takes in her hair, loose and free with soft curls, giving her an almost wild look, like some exotic warrior queen. The gold and silver braided circlet spanning her forehead before disappearing beneath her chestnut tresses only adds to this, the green emerald perched in its center an intentional contrast to the garnet sitting in Kylo’s otherwise identical headpiece. 

Briefly, he sees himself in his mind’s eye, his broad frame swaddled in black, a more luxurious version of his usual outfit. His pants are crisply ironed, crease running down the middle; the quilting of his black coat now accented with pin-sized diamonds. His cape, dark gray and trimmed with white fur. The regalness of his stare, his lips decadent, his eyes burning. A leader, a king, _her_ king.

Seeing himself through Rey’s eyes makes his head spin, his once-black heart swelling three sizes. Kylo Ren’s never thought of himself as anything other than awkward looking, but Rey sees him as _beautiful_ , a concept he’d never thought possible.

One of the designers steps out to drape Rey’s pewter gray cape over her shoulders, another deliberate divergence from Kylo’s outfit. Hers is outlined in black fur, their outfits representative of their alliance, of their quest to balance the Force. 

Her hazel eyes remain locked onto Kylo’s, her gaze unwavering. 

Kylo takes a long stride towards her, needing to take this goddess before him in his arms, to taste the sweetness of her lips and pay homage to her beauty. 

Instead, he finds himself frozen mid-step thanks to a Force hold. He scowls as he hears Kittara clear her throat from behind him. 

“Don’t you _dare_ mess up that lipstick, Kylo Ren.” The threat rings in his first Knight’s voice, and he hears her heels clack against the stone floor as she approaches. Kylo pushes back at her hold over him through the Force, although it's more cursory and not nearly enough to break through her invisible ropes. 

“Fine,” he mutters with an eyeroll. He nearly stumbles when his limbs are suddenly freed by an unseen flick of Kittara’s wrist. After taking a second to recover, he finishes crossing to Rey’s side, laying a gentle kiss on each of her dewy cheeks, conveying just how incredibly gorgeous she looks through their Bond. 

Kittara, clearly not trusting the two of them to exercise self-control for more than five parsecs, immediately shoos them down the corridor to the _Finalizer’s_ private hangar, where Kylo’s Upsilon-class shuttle awaits. It’s only once the redheaded Knight moves ahead with the whispering shuffle of fabric and click of her heels that Kylo’s able to see that even Kittara Ren dressed up for the occasion. At first, he thinks her shimmersilk dress is black until it catches a ray of the florescent lights above, the harsh glare revealing the iridescent violet shimmer, another coy nod to their conspiracy. Her skirt’s sleek, with Kittara’s trademark slits running up the side, but a layer of taffeta keeps the dress surprisingly modest. Her red hair’s coiled into a thick braid, carefully formed into crown on the back of her head, a less subtle nod to Alderaan (necessary given the _Mirrorbright_ reveal, yes; but also quite literally poking the Wampa named Hux). 

Kittara Ren’s always done everything in spades, and her attention to detail means she’s woven symbolism into every piece of their outfits. Even Kylo’s a little impressed at the level of intricacy, although he maintains she should’ve dialed the drama down a notch to steal an extra hour of sleep.

He is not stupid enough to tell her this, keeping the thought to himself. 

Kittara’s in her element, barking out orders as they board and making sure everyone’s secured for their descent to the ruddy ball below called Cantonica. As they glide out of the hangar bay, Kylo’s old friend anxiety finally rears its ugly head. His heartbeat starts pulsing through his veins as Kylo recites his speech in his head, swallowing down all the “what ifs” forming a thick skin in his throat. For a moment, the demons rise again, reforming from the melted clay puddles at the edges of his mind. The thought of Kylo speaking before all these people, all these dignitaries, politicians make his stomach flop over on itself again and again. 

A swell of confidence breaks through like a burst of light, melting the shadows back to nothingness and turning the anxiety humming through him into adrenaline. It takes a second for Kylo to register that the source of this newfound assertiveness wasn’t Rey; but something deep inside him, that new serenity he’d somehow unlocked by laying his grudges to rest. 

This new Kylo (or is it Ben?) whispers a reminder that he is not just Kylo Ren, not just a weapon, gifted only in death; but a leader by birthright, the grandson of Queen Amidala, the son of Princess Leia Organa. It promises him that their blood will keep his voice stable, shall smooth any wrinkles on his tongue. 

This odd confidence makes his spine straighten, and out of the corner of his eye he spies Rey smiling softly at him, soothing ribbons of support dancing through their Bond. 

Kylo’s able to hyperfocus for the remainder of his trip, letting the surge of energy flicker through him and turning Kittara’s nervous chatter to a wordless drone, one he barely hears in the protective shell of his own mind. He barely registers the slightest jolt of their landing, but when he stands, he leads the group out of his shuttle, Rey’s fingers entwined in his own. 

The high pitched shriek of another shuttle finally pierces through Kylo’s tunnel vision, bringing him back to reality with a thud as General Hux makes his own landing. 

Trepidation arises as the three fall silent, Kylo’s loyal Troopers protectively positioned around them. 

The Force tells Kylo Terror’s safety is off. 

The grinding whirr of the shuttle’s ramp fills the air, followed by the clack-clack-clack of Hux’s meticulously shined boots slapping against it. 

The ginger General strides out, and as he takes in the small welcoming party, his smug gaze falters into absolute shock as his ice blue eyes fall on the Last Jedi. 

Instinctively, Kylo wraps his arm around Rey’s waist, a warning heard loud and clear. 

“Supreme Leader, Lady Rey. Counselor,” he nods at Kittara Ren and oh, if Kylo dislikes the way Hux looked at Rey, he absolutely hates the way he gawks at Kittara, eyes roving over her svelte figure. Her dress has nearly the same cut as Rey, although with less décolletage, an uncharacteristic move for the Knight. From this angle Kylo notes that there’s no sign of her usual red body armor, meaning she’s either forgone it, or (more likely given Kittara’s penchant to plan for the worst) its been cleverly sewn into her dress. She’s also abandoned her trademark red lipstick (even Kylo Ren knows purple and red clash), instead wearing an atypically demure brown shade.

An unspoken signal that she’s giving Kylo and Rey the spotlight. 

For a moment, there’s something obscene that glimmers in Hux’s eyes as he almost leers at Kittara, before he blinks it away, returning his eyes to Kylo’s. 

“General Hux,” Kylo curtly returns the greeting, and Hux, remembering the role he’s playing, bows primly, his face falling into an emotionless mask. 

It appears they weren’t the only one who prepared for this. 

“Lady Rey, I must say, I am impressed at how well you’ve cleaned up,” Hux purrs, openly baiting Kylo and it takes every ounce of his strength to not Force-choke the everloving shit out of the worm. 

“General Hux, I wish I could say the same for you,” Rey retorts smoothly, one eyebrow raised to indicate her amusement at his backhanded compliment. 

“Well, I wasn’t aware that I was attending a royal wedding, or else I would’ve worn something more formal,” Hux’s grin turns wolfish when Rey’s head turns the slightest in confusion. 

Kylo sighs, deeply, now cursing Kittara Ren and her Force-damned commitment to symbolism. 

“It’s not a wedding.”

“Oh? But she looks like such a lovely bride, she’s just missing the veil,” if it was anyone other than Hux, Kylo might allow such teasing, but alas, it’s not. 

A cold wind rises from the barren desert, just outside the city’s terraformed limits. It whips between the two men ominously, as if the planet itself is reacting to the tension. 

“Now, now, General, surely someone with your expertise can appreciate the symbolism, here.” Kittara’s voice, her tone a satin covered fist, causes Kylo to silently re-sheath his saber mid-draw (although he doesn’t remove his hand from its hilt).

“Of course, Counselor. I should’ve known this was all your doing. You do have a flair for the dramatic, don’t you?”

“Says the man who blew up the Hosnian system just because.” Kittara returns Hux’s fire with a flippant ease. 

If Kittara’s blow rankles Hux, the man doesn’t show it, his lips upturning even further as if he’s getting some sick enjoyment from their game. “And that is exactly why I appreciate it, dear Counselor. Besides, surely the Supreme Leader’s not above a little friendly teasing.”

“Surely you don’t forget your place, General. Or do you wish to tempt the revocation of your coveted promotion?” Kittara’s eyes are slits, and for a second, Kylo’s tempted to just let her gleefully murder Hux and deal with the repercussions later. 

But no, he has to be responsible. Dammit. 

“It’s all right, Kittara. I can handle some good natured riffing from our future Grand Marshal, as I’m sure he can do the same.” Kylo at least tries to sound amicable, despite his current regret over his pesky commitment to bringing peace to the galaxy. 

“I’m glad I’m not the only one who remembers the days when we were all mates,” Hux’s voice is deceptively saccharine, his words meant to evoke some glimmer of sentimentality. In reality, it makes Kylo pause internally, although his face remains an unexpressive façade. 

An interesting ploy, bringing up the early days of their defection, back when Hux could almost be called a friend. One that feels explicitly out of character for the General, making Kylo deeply suspicious. 

_I don’t like this._

_**I don’t like it either, Sweetheart, but we’ve got no other choice but to play along.** _

Rey doesn’t say anything, but her lips press a little harder against each other, a small indication of her discontent. 

As always, its Kittara who masterfully steps in, calling Hux’s bluff with a challenging twinkle to her eyes and a predatory grin. “Well than, shall we, _mate_?” the last word’s a knife blade, sharp, deathly, and a wise man, or a sane man, would back down. 

Armitage Hux is neither wise or sane. 

Instead, he offers Kittara Ren his arm, elbow crooked for her to cup with her gloved hand. 

It’s a macabre game of chicken, Kylo thinks as Kittara takes Hux’s proffered arm, her aura radiating unease despite her playful smirk. Kylo shakes his head as the pair begins to walk away, Kittara expertly hiding her disgust and keeping her movements fluid. 

_She’s gonna kill him._

For the second time that day, Kylo shrugs in response at his lover. He takes her hand back into his own as they begin to follow the still-bantering redheads.

_**Probably, but let’s face it, neither of us are going to stop her.** _

—————————————————————————-

There’s an elaborate painting adorning the domed ceiling of the Palace Canta’s grand ballroom, one which practically smiles down upon the Supreme Leader of the freshly-renamed Galactic Order as he speaks. Barely anyone notices the elaborate mural above, a theatrical depiction of the artist’s interpretation of the Force. Swirls of gold-flecked paint trail through a backdrop of a craggy coastline, verdant hills overlooking black rock and turquoise seas. It’s a beautiful painting; rumor has it that Kylo Ren himself had it commissioned for his grand speech, but its effect is mostly lost on the audience, too busy soaking up every word of the self-declared Supreme Leader. The stew of politicians and leaders are completely enraptured by the dark haired psychopath’s flowery promises of peace and balance; they even lap up his pithy excuses for a new _Starkiller_ as some peaceful tribute to Alderaan, of all places.

One man in the audience refuses to fall for it, his espresso colored eyes narrowed as he glares through his disguise. Kylo Ren may have lost his mask, but he’s still the monster that slaughters villages. 

Briefly, and almost forlornly, the man’s eyes flicker to the almost laughably angelic figure next to the looming Jedi Killer. Rey, the alleged last Jedi, dressed to look like some peace-bringing virgin when the entire galaxy’s gossiping about her relationship with Kylo Ren. State-controlled media’s been prattling on and on about how kriffing romantic it is, the Force-bound lovers. Talking heads wildly speculate about their wedding date, and what title he’ll bestow on her. 

But the olive-skinned man knows better, knows that’s not what the people think. That they must see through this whole sham, can appreciate the fact that this is no romance, just a gullible woman tricked by her heart. It might not be what the holonews reports, but the man believes this conviction with his heart and soul.

Finally, Rey steps forward to add a short message of unwavering support and alliance, her unfaltering belief in Kylo Ren. The man’s stomach roils. Briefly, a pang of guilt gnaws at his heart before he bats it away, preferring to stew in his righteous hatred instead. 

While Rey speaks, the man allows himself a spare moment to assess the two humans standing two steps below Kylo and Rey, each flanking one of the Force users. Even the man had been shocked when he observed the lethal Kittara Ren stroll in on General Hux’s arm, their faces mirror images of smug assholery that made the man’s blood burn. Hux now stands impassively, his face a mask but his eyes clearly showing that noggin of his running a mile a minute, calculating his next move.

It’s telling that he stands on Kylo’s side, and not Rey’s, the man thinks. A dead giveaway that the Supreme Leader doesn’t trust his future Grand Marshal. 

Kittara Ren’s still as a statue from where she stands two steps below Rey, hands clasped in front of her waist. The redhead’s softened her usual vampy look, and the man earlier spied a hint of an Alderaanian style braided updo. An intentional insult to the Alderaanian people and the princess they love, the man concludes. Kittara wears the same blank face as Hux, although with a soft smile meant to relax the crowd as her eyes furtively scan the room. She’s using the Force to diffuse happy thoughts and good vibes, no doubt, while also searching for potential hold outs - or threats, the man thinks with a grimace. 

He makes a note to keep his mind clear and focus only on Rey’s words as her sweeping gaze approaches him, amber irises beckoning like an evil lighthouse. 

“I am committed to bringing balance to the Force, with Kylo Ren, so we can finally bring an end to the generations of war that has ravaged our galaxy…” Rey’s crisply accented voice rings across the hall, but the man’s attention fades once Kittara’s eyes have moved on, his disguise allowing him to escape her examination undetected. 

Finally, the damn speeches end with Kylo and Rey standing together, hand in hand, and using the Force to light some giant kriffing orb and turning it silvery gray. It’s basic charlatanism, but the crowd eats it up like they’ve brought someone back to life, the applause deafening. The man even sees the initially skeptical Queen Caro of Naboo clapping enthusiastically, mirrored in the the Alderaanian delegation’s pleased smiles. 

Kriffing hell, politicians are dumb. 

The man takes the opportunity to slink out of the room, the still cheering crowd providing ample cover for his escape. 

Poe Dameron has a job to do.

————— 

The Vice-Admiral’s retreat is not as discreet as he thought, as one person hawkishly watches him leave.

Kittara Ren watches him go out of the corner of her eye, smirking as she sees him pushing through the crowd. She keeps her honey colored lips soft, so that the smirk comes off as a smile, but inside, she is _crowing._

If Poe Dameron thinks he can crash her damn summit with some half-ass disguise of a Corellian shipbuilder- Well, he’s even stupider than she chalked him up to be. 

Gods, she cannot wait to murder his ass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Very Important Announcement!** The next few chapters of SH are going to be (as I've mentioned a few times) much darker as we get into some Canon-typical violence, as well as exploring some potentially triggering themes. Now, when I saw dark, I don't mean Dead Dove Dark, but it's certainly going to be a different tone from the rest of this series so far. In order to avoid triggering anyone who might be sensitive to such things, I'll not only be updating the tags, but adding appropriate warning tags at the start of each chapter so that no one's dealt an unpleasant surprise. So, if you're sensitive to emotional/mental abuse, misogynic thinking, or canon-typical violence, **please heed the tags!**
> 
> Okay, now that I'm done with that fun stuff - how's everyone doing? Y'all miss me yet? I know I've gotten some worried comments and questions asking if this is going to be finished, and yes, Safe Harbor is going to be wrapped by 1/1/19 if it kills me. I've had to exercise some discipline by cutting scenes and resisting the urge to explore new storylines, because there's enough shit to wrap up as it is. Luckily, a whole bunch of it's already written, I just need to weave everything together and make sure it all still works, as well as write the Boss Battle. So, please stick with me, because I promise, this is getting done. 
> 
> I've also been working on some other fics, in case you get bored waiting for updates. One is a [silly and smutty Halloween/witchy AU](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16467533/chapters/38566307) you might like, if that's your cuppa. I also strongly recommend you check out [the Reylo Writing Den's House Flydam Friendsgiving Fic Exchange](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Flydam_Friendsgiving_2018). My Flydam siblings did an amazing job writing some beautiful works there, and they all deserve your attention. 
> 
> Finally, a giant shoutout to Bunilicious for making me not one, but two new beautiful moodboards that have graced these last two chapters. Buni's incredibly talented, so please, if you like the moodboards, show her some love. I also want to thank all of you who have left kudos, comments, shoutouts, or supported me thus far. I really do run on your feedback, so thank you so, so much for all of your encouragement.


	38. Entrapment (My Favorite Game)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Cantonica Summit continues, as does Rey and Kylo's dangerous games. Meanwhile, Kittara Ren decides to play with a flaming stick whilst surrounded by barrels of gasoline (metaphorically, of course). But everything comes to a head when old friends and new enemies find themselves at the same party.

Somewhere between the third and the fourth meet and greet event with planetary leaders and former Republican Senators, Rey realizes that the Summit is an absolute smashing success. 

By her calculations, 96% of the feedback they’re getting is positive, with almost every government present either pledging their loyalty to the Galactic Order, or incredibly close to it. Some planets are already submitting their candidates for parliamentary representation, although Kylo and Rey both firmly remind them that parliament members must be elected by a fair democratic process. 

The only real hiccup in the night is when a confused leader calls Rey “Your Highness”, leading to an awkward but gentle correction that she is not Kylo’s empress, just his partner. 

Rey’s able to admit, at least to herself, that it’s awakened some nagging insecurity about her place with _him_ , and only with him (she’s confident in her position otherwise); although she does slowly exhale through her nostrils, reminding herself that they agreed to keeping their relationship (at least officially) undisclosed, not wanting it to distract from the summit’s purpose. 

Kylo’s hand grazes the small of her back, a soft reassurance of his presence. They’re in the center of a ballroom so ornately decorated, its borderline gaudy. The entire room is covered in gold leaf, with every surface defiled by the substance. In front of them stands a governor and her two handlers, the governor has an affinity for bangles, wearing an unfathomable number on each arm. They jingle with each exaggerated movement as she talks about her homeworld’s resources, using her time with the two judiciously. Surrounding them, groups of representatives chat amongst themselves, waiting for their chance of an audience with the Supreme Leader and Last Jedi. 

Judging by the number of eyes locked on her and Kylo, though, on his hand now casually resting on her bare skin, Rey concludes that their attempts to limit said distractions have been utterly and completely futile. 

_**That’s because no one can take their eyes off you, Sweetheart.**_ He purrs across their Bond. _**In fact, I’m happy to re-negotiate your title, if you want. I want everyone to know you’re**_ **mine,** he continues, his voice somehow a little lower, in the way that makes her insides clench.

 _Oh hush,_ is all Rey can manage to shoot back, taking a long sip of the sparkling beverage she’d been handed. Hopefully the layers of make-up she’s wearing hides the warmth on her cheeks. 

Stupid smooth talking Solos.

At this, Kylo chuckles under his breath. Only Rey stands close enough to hear it; as everyone else seems happy to maintain a respectable distance from the two most powerful Force users in the Galaxy (understandable, given that one of them has a reputation for flying into homicidal rages).

_**You truly have no idea, do you? How beautiful you look tonight. Elegant, regal. Stunning.** _

Kriff, Rey thinks. If he keeps that up no amount of foundation will hide the blush staining her skin.

 _ **Of course, I think I like you better without all that.**_

_Really?_ she snorts skeptically (although only across the Bond. Externally, they both look positively enraptured by the Governor of Onderon standing in front of them, droning on and on about trade opportunities under the New Galactic Order).

 _ **Mmm, yes. I like seeing your freckles, your scars. I also enjoy watching your skin flush red when I make you blush. Which I’m starting to discover that I’m very good at.**_

_Someone’s getting full of himself._

_**Someone’s going to be full of me later.** _

At this, Rey inhales, right as she takes another sip of her drink and the sweet nectar rushes down the wrong tube, burning her windpipe as she coughs. 

“Are you all right, Lady Rey?” the Governor asks, grey eyes blinking rapidly. Confusion (thankfully) radiates off her, the woman completely unaware of the scandalous mental conversation happening right in front of her. 

“Mm, yes, just, um, down the wrong pipe.” Rey explains weakly, not even daring to look at her mischievous lover. Damn him for using his sinful voice against her.

“Ah,” the older woman nods sympathetically, and then leans closer, somewhat awkwardly, and whispers, “you’re doing fine, sweetie. These things only get more boring as time goes on.”

Clearly, the Onderonian Governor hasn’t attended these events with Kylo Ren before.

Then the woman draws back, and returns seamlessly to her previous topic, as if she’d never been interrupted. 

_That wasn’t fair. You know what your voice does to me._

_**Ah, yes, I do.** _

Oh, fuck him for playing so dirty, keeping that low, sultry tone, she thinks. How the fuck is he doing that through the Force Bond anyways?

_Kylo. If you keep this up, I’m going to cause an intergalactic incident that runs absolutely counter to our goals here._

_**But teasing you is so much fun.** _

Rey swears she feels her knees wobble, her skin flushing clammy hot as she thinks of all the ways Kylo’s teased her so far.

_How many more of these do we have?_

Kylo practically emanates with smugness through their Bond, taking her query as some sort of surrender. 

Only Kylo Ren could make the Force look kriffing _smug._

_**This, and then some Young Galactic Leaders event.** _

_Then you’re going to have to behave, Kylo. Or else I’ll shut the Bond, so help me Maker._

Her lover, the Supreme Leader of the New Galactic Order and the Master of the Knight of Ren, kriffing _pouts_ at her threat, his brown eyes turning soft and pool-like.

 _ **Fine,**_ and the Supreme manchild audibly _sighs_ through the Force. _**But then, I’m taking you home, and I’m going to enjoy punishing you for driving me so fucking crazy all night long.**_

Rey gulps involuntarily, the thin scrap of lace between her legs suddenly hot with slick. She’s so turned on that she can’t even choke out an indignant response that he’s the one who’s been teasing her all night. Meanwhile, Kylo’s demeanor gives no indication of any such effects she’s having, as he smoothly responds to some question of the Governor’s. Like he hasn’t just made her stomach coil with anticipation and her mind race with possibilities. 

‘Force, take the helm,’ she pleads with the energy around her, hoping it gives her the self-restraint to keep herself from publicly climbing Ben Solo like a tree before the night’s end. 

Or at least it helps speed up their final appearance of the night, before Rey’s patience runs out.

————————————————-

By Kittara Ren’s standards, things are going _marvelously_. Not so well that she’d be suspicious, as when things go too well it’s usually a sign that the Force is about to royally fuck you over, but better than she expected things to go, and that makes the Knight of Ren feel a cool satisfaction burn in her gullet.

Even Hux is playing nice today, perhaps sated by his shiny new title (the last he’ll ever have, she thinks with a smirk), or perhaps wise enough to know better than to be his usual petulant shitbrained self. In fact, Kittara muses while watching the now Grand Marshal out of the corner of her eye, Hux has behaved _too_ nicely so far. Which means either his coup’s been shot to Hell; or he’s dumb enough to believe that by being nice, he’ll throw everyone off his scent. 

Knowing Hux, Kittara’s going with Option B as the right one. 

Luckily for the oft-murderous Knight, Kittara has a way to test this theory (scientific method and all that). It’s why she brought their odd foursome here, to this raucous nightclub in the Fashion District of Canto City, where a strong beat booms around them and lights flash as they walk along exposed grates to their private lounge on an upper floor.

Perks of being in charge, you could say. 

“Is this really a Young Leaders’ event?” Kittara hears Rey ask, practically yelling over the music. 

“Unfortunately,” Kylo groans. Kittara can’t help but curl the corners of her painted lips into a smile. At least the Supreme Leader’s playing along with her game - unhappily, sure, but he’s playing and that’s all she can ask for. 

Finally, the svelte Twilek’i attendant leading the group stops in front of a set of heavily embroidered damask drapes. She pulls them aside with a flourish to reveal a u-shaped couch made of plush velvet and gold-leafed embellishments. It is disgustingly ostentatious, but hey, beggars can’t be choosers. 

“The suite reserved for the Supreme Leader. We’re so excited to have your esteemed presence join us.” The attendant purrs, before bowing and sauntering away. 

“I thought we already had most of the younger rulers on board?” Rey asks again. “Besides, how can we get any negotiating done over this music?” 

Kittara doesn’t answer, instead crossing over the black fur rug to inspect the array of bottles of liquor awaiting their consumption. They’re all top shelf, cut crystal bottles reflecting the dim light and refracting it into tiny little rainbows on the walls. 

“Because it’s not about the young leaders. Look,” Hux mutters, and Kittara resists the urge to spin back towards them. She needs to make sure Hux’s falling for her red herring, but turning around isn’t necessary, and would call too much attention to her interest in the conversation. Instead, she uses the Force to see the scene behind her in her mind’s eye.

Hux, gloved hand outstretched and smirking smarmily. Rey’s hazel eyes, still beautifully enhanced with black kohl, following his pointer finger to the cadre of press strategically positioned across the open dance floor below, on the level below their lounge. Enough to give them privacy, while still allowing the press a few key shots. 

Hook. Line. Sinker. Gods _damn_ , she’s good, and she has to keep the victory out of her voice as she non-chalantly turns (like she’s not choreographing every kriffing moment). 

“Stop pointing, Hux, you’ll ruin the ruse.”

Kylo groans, pinching his forehead with a gloved hand like a damn drama queen. “So, we’re supposed to be acting like ‘normal’ twenty and thirty somethings up here so we can make sure we’re covered in _Galactic Teen_ Magazine?”

“Polling shows Galactic residents in their twenties and thirties are more cynical, but also excited about the possibility of a young Supreme Leader that they can relate to. Consider this you being relatable.” Kittara grins sweetly, just as she’s able to get enough leverage with her thumb on the bulb of the champagne cork, causing it to jerk out of the bottle with a loud pop. The cork streaks out towards Hux (as if targeted), but Rey flicks her hand, freezing it with the Force. 

White bubbles foam out of the top of the bottle, and Kittara levitates four crystal champagne flutes under it to gather up the golden nectar. 

She passes a glass to Rey first, then Kylo, and finally Hux, making sure her fingertips gently brushed his gloved ones as she did with a coy smile (masking the bite of bile in her throat). 

“To victory,” she toasts, raising up her glass, and the three follow, echoing her sentiments before they all sip their drinks. The sparkling wine’s dry and effervescent on her tongue, a lovely vintage from Arkanis. 

“Arkanian champagne is truly one of the Galaxy’s best,” Hux crows to Kylo. Which was the exact reaction Kittara planned on, and she coyly takes another sip.

Gods, this is too easy. 

She won’t lie, the first thing she felt, after taking his arm on the spaceport landing pad and picking up on his fleeting emotions of attraction and nostalgia, was stomach-heaving disgust. The idea of Armitage Hux _lusting_ after her makes her insides roil, although, such is the price of being as pretty as Kittara Ren. 

But her disgust was quickly replaced by that dark voice in the back of her mind reminding her that attraction is definitely something Kittara Ren can work with. After all, she’s certainly utilized her looks and charms before, and Armitage Hux is so affection starved, she can wrap him around her pinky through batted eyelashes. Add to that Armitage’s silly sentimentalism for the days before Snoke twisted him into a black, soulless wretch, for the blooming friendship they almost had, and it’s like taking candy from a youngling. 

(Ironically, theft of candy from younglings is not one of Kittara’s past times. First, she’s not a sweets person in the slightest, always preferring savory. Second, younglings tend to scream when provoked, and the sound of a hysterical toddler makes Kittara Ren strongly consider stabbing herself in the eardrum.)

Kittara’s hope is that by dangling a thread of hope in front of the delusional Grand Marshal, she can either delay his anticipated coup _or_ trick him into revealing more about it. It’s a skin-crawling task, coyly flirting with the prick, but, she thinks as she takes another sip of champagne, it’s for a good cause and will make slowly torturing him to death that much more fun. 

Because if he thinks Kittara Ren is dumb enough to be swayed by sentimentalism, well. Armitage Hux has something else coming. 

“Quite brilliant, this is.” Speaking of, he’s stepped closer to her, so he can speak in lowered tones while still being heard. His icy eyes rake over her, with almost a possessive proudness that makes her fingers itch for her saber. Ahead of them, Kylo and Rey have stepped out to the railing in front of their private room, raising their hands to wave to the drunkenly cheering crowd below. 

“Mmm?” Kittara asks, playing dumb as she observes holovids flashing from the press box. 

“Setting this up. Forcing Ren - how do you call it? - off-brand and pushing whatever angle their relationship gives, too.” Hux watches her with every carefully chosen word, searching for some sort of reaction on her face. 

“They call it ‘Reylo’. Quite popular with key demographics,” she smiles, but the warmth of her lips never touches her eyes. 

“And yet, he actually cares for her. Deeply. It’s almost poetic, isn’t it?” The sneer in his voice removes any sweetness from his words, his distaste for Rey evident on his face. 

He’s so close, she could stab a venom filled needle into his jugular in a split-second. 

“She’s loyal to him, and so, loyal to the cause,” Kittara says instead, keeping her mask firmly in place. She deserves a fucking award for not succumbing to a single murderous compulsion thus far. 

“Hmm,” is all Hux says, but approval flits across his face and twists through his aura, utterly convinced. 

Idiot. 

“Well, then,” he turns back towards her, raising his glass slightly and tipping it towards hers. “Long live the future Empress.”

He clinks his rim against hers, his gaze locked into hers as if he’s trying to garner some reaction. She holds it with her own as she sips, revealing nothing, even as she catches a glimpse of his treacherous plans. 

_Adorable_ that he thinks he’ll succeed in deposing Rey and Kylo, and now that Kittara _sees_ , all those disgusting little touches and forced coquettishness pays off. 

The coup is on. 

(And, incidentally, Kittara Ren is right again - even if she was only arguing with herself. A win is a win.) 

Kylo and Rey drift back over, done with playing regents for the crowd and eager to be off their feet. Rey sinks into the overstuffed velveteen couch and Kylo follows, wrapping a black swathed arm around her shoulder. 

They all make only slightly awkward small talk for a few minutes, considering they’re all actively conspiring against each other and that every other word is a shouted “WHAT?” 

Then, like fucking clockwork because Kittara’s _this damn good_ , Hux excuses himself for a moment, his gloved hand brushing against her exposed spine as he goes. 

Kittara can’t stop her eyes from rolling, now that he can’t see her face. 

He’s back in mere minutes, but the hidden comm in her titanium and diamond ear cuff allows Terror to keep Kittara apprised of Hux’s every move. 

“He’s picked up the drop, and left one of his own. Why don’t people understand that the men’s room is fucking obvious for any spooky shit?” Terror asks exasperatedly. 

“Because he’s a predictable moron,” Kittara replies softly, making Kylo and Rey raise their brows.

“Hux, I’m guessing?” Rey asks with a knowing grin.

“The tauntaun has taken the bait,” Kittara purrs with a wicked smile, using their (okay, petty, yes) codename for Hux. 

Too. Easy. 

“Speaking of which,” Kylo warns, and Hux re-enters not five parsecs later, holding a fresh tumbler of burgundy colored wine. 

“As much as I appreciate champagne, I prefer a more masculine drink,” he explains. 

Rey and Kittara exchange a discrete glance.

“Not a fan of Corellian whiskey?” Kylo grins, opening an easy door for a cheap shot right in front of a clearly tempted Hux. 

But Kittara’s not the only one on their best behavior tonight, as Hux somehow swallows down whatever biting comment popped into his shriveled brain. Meaning Hux wants really wants to dupe them, so he just chuckles and waves it off, saying something about needing to make sure his head’s clear in the morning. 

Too bad she’s seen better acting in porn. 

A heavy step behind her tells Kittara Terror’s arrived, and the following boot sounds match Omega and Alpha. They’re in civilian clothes to blend in, but the Force still whispers their identities to her. 

“Ah, your guard’s finished their security sweep?” Hux asks, and Terror nods curtly. 

“Nothing to report, sir. We have eyes on every entrance and Troopers on every level, sir.”

Terror is a far better actor than Hux. 

“Good, good. And the Nabian Queen?” Kittara asks.

“Enjoying another dance with Calrissian’s son, but I’m sure she’ll stop by soon.”

It is natural that Kittara wants to ensure their gracious and insistent hostess, the young Queen of Naboo, stops by and speaks with her distant cousin. While her loyalty’s secured, she seems anxious to get to know Padme Amidala’s grandson, and it’s an important alliance to foster. 

This is why Terror and Kittara’s conversation raises no alarm bells in Hux’s mind, his aura becoming more and more relaxed as he sips his wine. The alcohol loosens his shields, just enough to allow Kittara to stealthily press an invisible ear against the crack, picking up more and more of his inner monologue. 

He’s only mildly curious when Kittara rises from the couch, setting her empty flute down on a marble-topped table. His focus is more on drinking her in lecherously, and Kittara digs her nails into her palm. 

Luckily for Hux, she still needs him alive, or else she would savor removing his head from the rest of his gangly body. Bloodlust sings in her veins as she makes her way over the hanging walkway, descending down the hidden back stairwell to the throng below.

————————————————-

By the time Kittara returns to the small lounge area reserved for the First Order leaders, Rey’s grown concerned. She keeps her hands plastered over her kneecap, forcing it to stay still, as Hux and Kylo debate which Death Star was more powerful beside her. She knows Kylo’s playing his part, but it’s a conversation that she has no interest in joining. Instead, she watches discreetly for any sign of Kittara (or trouble, another key indicator of the redhead’s presence).

When Terror draws the curtains closed, enveloping them in privacy and away from prying eyes, Rey knows the redheaded Knight close. Sure enough, seconds later the curtains are thrown open, Kittara strolling in, grinning like the lothcat who caught the canary. She then tugs the curtain shut behind her, wanting to keep the outside world unaware of what’s about to happen in their private room. 

A discreet door hisses open in the wall to Rey’s right, bright blue light pouring in from an access hallway. There’s shuffling noises, like someone’s resisting, before a Stormtrooper literally chucks Finn, Rey’s once closest friend, onto the rug before them. 

Seeing him there, after all that’s happened, the way he struggles against the binder cuffs, the way he stills when he sees Rey, and then grimaces as he sees Kylo next to her, makes her emotions swirl. The hurt of his betrayal pierces her lungs, her rage sweeping any concern for his well-being away in a fast, demanding current. 

“Let go!” a feminine voice squeals indignantly, before a second trooper leads a khaki-clad Rose Tico next to Finn. Rose is also in binder cuffs, but she’s being treated with far more kindness than the ex-Stormtrooper, and for that, Rey is grateful. She remembers what Chewie relayed about Rose, and her heart now twists without reservation. 

“Rey!” Rose almost looks happy to see her, not just hopeful, but happy, and for a second, Rey lets her facade fall. 

“Rose,” she stands, rushing towards her former ally, skirts sweeping as she moves. Briefly, she catches the other woman’s eyes with her own, and tries to convey _please, just play along, I’ll explain everything later; I won’t let them hurt you_ through her expression, pressing those urgent thoughts with the Force into Rose’s mind. 

Understanding flickers through Rose’s soft espresso eyes. At this, Rey withdraws, regaining her composure before stepping back towards her seat next to Kylo. 

“Move!” the bark comes from behind the wall panel, and that’s when one more body flies through the opening, almost hitting Rose and smacking against the floor with a loud thud. Rey freezes, just as Kylo rises protectively, wrapping an arm around her and hugging her to his side as they both take in the mop of black curls atop the figure’s head; his tan leather jacket speckled with blood. 

With a groan, Poe Dameron comes to his knees, raising his head to look Rey right in the eyes. There’s a shiner already bruising around his right one, and his bottom lip is split open. 

Kittara’s handiwork, surely. 

Rey looks back with disgust and nothing else at the man who betrayed her. 

The man who sold her out, like she was nothing - _just like her parents did._

Rage burns in the pit of Rey’s belly, a festering wound reopened.

“Well, well, well. Look what I found, everyone.” Kittara practically purrs with satisfaction, moving like a snake towards Poe. She reaches down, wrapping her pale fingers in his black hair to yank his head further up, so it’s unnaturally arched back. She jerks him with a violent ferocity, likely giving the Vice-Admiral whiplash. 

“Poe Dameron. So nice of you to join us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DUN DUN DUN. Holy shit, right? That last scene is for all of you clamoring for Poe to get his comeuppance at the hands of Kittara Ren. Merry Christmukkah, ya filthy bastards. 
> 
> Also, how weird that Poe's there, right? And how shady is Hux right now? 
> 
> Thanks to everyone for sticking with me, especially Bunilicious (who keeps inspiring me with beautiful moodboards like the one at the top) and SaturnineFeline, aka Kittara Ren's #1 stan. :) I hope you all had a very happy holidays (if you celebrated any of them), and happy (almost) 2019! Holy shit, I can't believe we're finally almost done with this year. Even crazier, this means we're approaching the one year mark for when I started writing Safe Harbor. Meaning I really need to wrap this shit up, and I am working on it, I promise (I know, I know, I said I'd be done by now, but I overestimated the holidays). 
> 
> In the meantime, let me know what you thought, as comments and feedback seriously keep me going. Wrapping all of this up is taking some serious emotional energy, as this fic is like my baby and ... *sniff* she's almost all grown up.


	39. you should see me in a crown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poe’s eyes narrow spitefully. “Well, hello, Rey. Looks like you’ve managed to scavenge your way to a plush new life, haven’t you?”
> 
> One might think that after balancing the Force, Rey would be immune to the call of hatred; of pure, unadulterated, righteous fury.  
> 
> However, thinking that would require ignoring the very nature of the Force _and_ of Rey of Jakku. 
> 
> Blackness swirls in her heart as every second of pain she suffered thanks to Poe Dameron resurfaces, her vision turning red.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Canon-typical violence.

“Poe Dameron. So nice of you to join us.” There’s steel in Kittara’s voice, matched by the venom in her dark brown eyes as she glares down at the Resistance’s Vice-General.  He squirms in her grip, albeit fruitlessly, before responding with a glibness that makes Rey’s fingers itch for violence.

“You know it’s not a party without me.”

In the background, Hux watches cautiously, gauging the situation.  Rey’s acutely aware of him, despite the angst sucking into her chest.  He’s undoubtedly waiting to see when he should intervene, and whether Kittara or Kylo suspects his hand in the Resistance’s sudden appearance. 

“Ah, Poe, Poe, Poe,” the redhead croons, twisting her fist further into his curls, causing the pilot to wince.  The action undoubtedly rips some of his hair away from his scalp, giving the Knight of Ren a trophy to add to her collection. “I thought for sure that Leia Organa would’ve done something about that obnoxious ego of yours. Yet, I see you’re still overcompensating for all those failures.”

“And you’re still overcompensating by being a raging bitch,” Poe spits back, Kittara’s barb striking a nerve deep within him. 

If Poe Dameron thinks Kittara Ren would be insulted by him calling her a bitch, he clearly doesn’t know bantha shit about the First Knight.  Kittara tips her head back and cackles with amusement. 

“Oh, Dameron, you stupid, stupid boy. I am really going to enjoy our next few hours together.”

Despite his nonchalant expression, Poe’s skin pales ever so slightly at the threat implied in Kittara’s words.  His almond shaped eyes swirl across the room, searching for an exploit, an escape route-

Before landing on Rey, the former Hero of the Resistance, the last Jedi, once _their_ last Jedi, bedecked in white shimmersilk and jewels that cost more than half of the Resistance fleet.  Rey, the newest ally and partner of Supreme Leader Kylo Ren, who has his arm tucked protectively around her. 

Poe’s eyes narrow spitefully. “Well, hello, Rey. Looks like you’ve managed to scavenge your way to a plush new life, haven’t you?”

One might think that after balancing the Force, Rey would be immune to the call of hatred; of pure, unadulterated, righteous fury.  

However, thinking that would require ignoring the very nature of the Force _and_ of Rey of Jakku. 

Blackness swirls in her heart as every second of pain she suffered thanks to Poe Dameron resurfaces, her vision turning red. 

Kittara’s left holding a fist of ebony curls as he’s yanked out of her grip with the Force, Rey stretching out her hand to bring him to a standing position (albeit, floating a good foot off the ground).  Poe’s muscles are locked in place, and he twitches, trying to break her grasp over him. 

But he forgot who he was dealing with. 

She doesn’t Force choke him, no.  After all, she’s not going to abandon all she’s worked for just to give Poe Dameron a swift death that he doesn’t deserve.  Instead, Rey finds all that pain, all the heartbreak she bottled up deep down inside after finding out she’d been sold out by the Resistance as Kylo Ren bait, and forms it into a pretty little ball of despair.  In her mind’s eye, it crackles red-black, and she can see it in her hand before she uses the Force to plunge it straight into Poe’s chest. He screams, both in shock and pain as he physically and emotionally experiences her anguish at his betrayal.

_**Rey.** _

It’s the gentlest glimmer from her love, the person who makes all the sorrow and all the tears worth it.  Kylo draws her back from the brink gently, and she turns towards him, almost gasping at what she sees through the Force. 

Where her aura’s darkened with her rage, his has lightened, almost sky grey and shimmering against the backdrop of the dimly lit room. 

Balance is a funny thing, but the Force seems compelled to keep it. 

Rey relents, stopping her Force attack against Poe, but she doesn’t release him, not yet.  He’s only gotten a taste of the Hell he put her through, and by the Gods, she will _make_ him taste her pain tonight.

But first, she steps forward, hand clenching into a fist.  She draws her arm back, and for Poe Dameron, Rey pulls no punches.  

After all, she might be a scavenger girl from Jakku, but she was the scavenger girl from Jakku that _nobody_ messed with. 

Rey’s aim is true, and there’s a satisfying crack as she punches Poe straight in that smug jaw of his.  Once she’s landed her blow she releases him, letting him fall to the ground with a startled wail, a satisfied smirk painting her lips.  She steps back, feeling Kylo protectively hovering over her, the front of his cowl brushing her exposed back. 

_**Are you all right?** _

_I will be._  And then, just in case he had any doubts: _Don’t worry. I’m in control._

_**I’m not, and I know. Just try to keep the screaming to a minimum; we’re in public.** _

Rey snorts, biting her tongue to keep herself from reminding him just how rich that is, coming from him, Kylo fucking Ren. 

“Rey, I -“

“Shut UP, Dameron. For once in your Force-damned life, just shut the fuck up because you have _no fucking right_ to speak to me. Ever,” Rey fumes.  In the corner of her eye, she sees even Kittara Ren taking a step back, recognizing the danger signs in Rey’s coiled pose.

“You. Leia trusted you. I trusted you. The Resistance trusted you. We all believed in you, Poe Dameron, the great hero. Poe Dameron, the one who’d carry on Leia’s mantle. You, who considered yourself her adopted son. And yet, you betrayed her. Tricked a sick old woman into believing you were her _son_ , and took that stolen information and used me, after all I gave to the Resistance - after all I gave up for the Resistance - as fucking _bait_. And you did this solely to secure your sick need for a win, for victory.  You turned your back on everything the Resistance stood for.

“But you did that long ago, didn’t you, Poe? You stopped believing in the purpose, the mission of the Resistance - to bring justice and freedom to the galaxy; to make things _right_ \- long before you were Vice-General. That’s why you ignored it when Kylo Ren freed the slaves, and when Kylo Ren started reparations.  That’s why you drummed up false propaganda and started working with criminals. Slavers. _Hutts._ Because you can’t see past your own damn ego, your need to be right, can you? And that’s why you’ve failed. That’s why you’ve always failed. 

“Tell me, Poe, did you tell Rose the truth about the Otomok system plan? Did she know what your intentions truly were, until you fell for our little decoy and pulled out of that scheme? Did you tell her that Kylo Ren freed her family? That you were going to slaughter helpless civilians? And then you intended to make it look like the First Order was engaged in treachery, when in reality, they were just trying to do the right thing?”

Rose’s light brown skin has gone pale, her mouth hanging open with disbelief.  Even Finn looks shocked, although Rey can’t help but wonder how much of it is feigned.  

Rey pushes on, not allowing that thought to distract her from her tirade.  “Does she know you were planning on bombing hospitals?”

_“No.”_

It’s a gasp, a whisper so faint that Rey barely hears Rose say it, but she watches the other woman’s face twist with heartbreak as her worst fears are confirmed. 

“Rey, stop this, what- look at what you’ve become!” Finn intervenes, finally rising from his spot on the floor as best he could with his bound hands.  

Big. Fucking. Mistake. 

“Finn,” Rey spits his name like it’s Sithspit on her tongue. “How did it feel, Finn, to sell your best friend out? Hmm?”

Finn’s dark eyes cast downwards, shamed by the truth in Rey’s words.  He lifts his hands up, as if trying to protect himself from her voice. 

“Rey, I didn’t like - We would’ve never let them take you, let him -“

“Is that what you tell yourself so that you can sleep at night, Finn?” Rey hisses, letting go of any hold she had out of respect for her broken friendship with the ex-Trooper. 

“Oh, what I tell myself to sleep at night, Rey? Sorry, I don’t have problems sleeping, but then again, I’m not in some nice plush bed cuddled up with _Kylo fucking Ren_ of all people! How could you, Rey?! You know what he did to me!”

“Not everything’s about you, Finn,” she responds coldly, refusing to take the bait.  

Finn ignores her, continuing.  “How do you think it felt knowing you were keeping the secret that you have some weird connection with Kylo Ren. Kylo Ren! Your enemy! I mean, kriff, Rey, people think you went to the _Supremacy_ to help him overthrow Snoke!”  

The room stills at Finn’s outburst, the unspoken accusation making the air somehow heavy.  Rey can feel Hux’s eyes fixated on her, glittering with malicious anticipation. 

“If that was the case, Traitor, then why would she go back to the Resistance after? Why would you have to use her as bait to get to me?” Kylo growls, his voice tight and dangerous.  Given the lack of context, Rey knows it’s a valid argument - a strong one, even, and Finn can’t find a way to overcome it.

Hux, however, presses his lips into a straight line, trying to keep a grin from appearing, and a realization hits Rey like an icy blade into her stomach.

_Hux knows. The Supremacy - he knows what happened._

_**Fuck.**_ A pause, although Rey gets the feeling that Kylo's suspected this for a long time. _**We’ll figure it out together, but later. Focus on this, Rey, we can’t further arouse his suspicions now.**_

“Rey, you’ve betrayed everything you said you stood for,” Finn says sadly.  His eyes are ones of someone refusing to see, someone so lost in their own denial that they can’t find the switch to turn on the light. 

“No, Finn, that was you. Twice. Or was it three times?” She strikes back, just as adept at wielding words as weapons as she is with lightsabers.  “After all, you fled the First Order - and lied to everyone about why. I know you didn’t just try to leave the Resistance - me, Han, Chewie - that one time on Takodana. You did it again, after the Battle of D’Qar. Isn’t that how you met Rose?” she throws back his secrets, shared in confidence, just like he’d exposed hers. “Because she caught you attempting to abandon ship? How valiant. How brave. In the end, you’ve always been a coward. A _traitor._ To everyone but yourself.”

With those words, Rey’s anger towards Finn drains, like someone’s pulled the plug in a filled sink. 

“Poe,” Rose whispers, tears in her eyes.  The sound snatches Rey’s attention away from Finn and back to the petite Asian woman, perhaps one of the three Resistance members Rey still considers to be a friend. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Rose asks shakily.

“There’s a lot he didn’t tell you, Captain Tico. A lot both of them haven’t been telling you.” Kittara steps forward, sensing the change in Rey’s energy.  She’s ready to deliver the _piece de resistance_ , and Rey allows Kylo to protectively pull her to his side.  She sense his pride at her bravery, to speak her truth and confront her former friends with her feelings in the ways he never could. 

“For example,” Kittara continues, drawing Rey’s attention back to her, “the _real_ reason why you’re here.” At this, Kittara tosses a small, black bundle of rolled up fabric towards Rose, who manages to clumsily catch it with her bound wrists. 

Rose’s hands shake as she unrolls what’s quickly revealed to be a utility belt attachment, one with pockets full of wires, charges, remotes - detonators.  Her heart-shaped face turns grey as she realizes what she’s holding: the necessary equipment for a devastating terrorist attack. 

“No,” she chokes out. “We’re here - the General sent us here for reconnaissance only - we’re under strict orders not to attack -“

“We made an executive decision to alter the mission,” Poe mumbles, still flexing his jaw in pain. 

“You mean you were planning on murdering the Supreme Leader, the Lady Rey, myself, and about one thousand innocent civilians, as well as the leaders of most of the galaxy by taking out half of Canto City.” Kittara corrects him, bristling with fury. 

“What?” Rose closes her eyes, as if refusing to see will block out the truth. “Poe - you can’t - why the fuck would you do this again? I trusted you! This isn’t who we are, what we are!”

“No, Rose, this is exactly who we need to be to stop them from taking over the Galaxy and-“

“And _what_ , Poe?!? Freeing millions of slaves and helping orphans? Stopping gangs and criminals from exploiting the poor, the weak? They might not be perfect, Poe, but at least they’re fucking _trying!_ Look at us! Look at what you’re doing - the exact same thing they did to Hosnian Prime, just on a smaller scale! Killing thousands of innocents - of children? Poe, don’t you care that we’re becoming what we’re supposed to fight against?” Rose stops with a sob, her shoulders shaking, and Rey aches. 

She knows how painful it is when you learn that everything you believed in is a lie.  

“My sister didn’t die for _this_ ,” Rose shakes her head slowly, tears threatening to spill down her cheeks.  

In the corner, Hux shifts, and like that, the good soldier takes over.  Rose blinks the wetness away quickly, her body going rigid. 

“Perhaps,” Hux muses quietly, as if he’s not now acting to protect his investment, “we should continue this after relocating the prisoners to a more private location.” He nods towards the rising din outside of partygoers and revelers, all of whom would see three high-ranking members of the Resistance in binder cuffs and varying states of injury if the curtains blocking their view moved. 

Rey looks at Kittara, and then at Kylo, who’s dark eyes are already searching hers.  

“I suppose,” Kylo says, jaw grinding on itself again as he muses. 

Kittara, however, grins wickedly. “Oh, goody. That means I can finally start the real fun.” 

Okay, maybe Rey’s anger isn’t completely discharged, because some sick part of herself revels in the way Poe’s face blanches as it dawns on him how completely and utterly fucked he is. 

“TK-1985,” Kittara orders Terror, putting on a show just for Hux and the Resistance prisoners, “Transport these prisoners to the secured cellblock we reserved.  I’ll ride with the escort.”

Hux freezes, as now his targets are splitting up.  Rey watches as he works through his options: stay with Rey and Kylo, and risk Kittara getting to Poe and making him crack; or stay with Kittara Ren and keep her from “learning” (because how can one learn something they already know?) about his conspiracy with the Resistance’s Vice-General, but risk leaving Rey and Kylo unsupervised at such a crucial moment. 

Obsession wins out, and Hux moves towards the flame-haired Knight of Ren, who does a good job choking down her annoyance as he does.  “I’ll stay with Counselor Ren. We’re safer in numbers, after all.” He tosses what he surely thinks is a chivalrous grin and Rey wants to gag for Kittara. 

Out of the corner of her eye, Rey detects a nervous flinch from Rose, the Force whispering about an encounter with Hux that left a sour taste in the warrior woman’s heart.  

Rey doesn’t even wrestle with the consequences as she clears her throat, because consequences be _damned._  The ancient code of sisterhood requires she act to protect at least Rose, the most vulnerable of the three of them.

“Supreme Leader,” she says primly, making sure he sees her true intentions through their Bond so he understands her sudden shift, “might I ask that Captain Tico be placed in a more… comfortable cell, if possible? I believe her when she says she didn’t know Dameron’s intentions.” 

“I agree with the Lady Rey,” Kittara smiles sweetly, reading between the lines.  “It may be advantageous, given the current situation. I can have my Athenians come stand guard. She won’t get past them.”

Hux scowls, but doesn’t say a word.  Rey knows he can’t intervene without exposing himself, as it’s good wartime strategy to sow further discontent and divisions among the Resistance.

“Of course. Make sure Captain Tico receives a good meal, too.” Kylo says gruffly, and with that, the plainclothes Troopers surround the three rebels, escorting them away. 

Over her shoulder, Rose looks back at Rey. Her face is a storm of emotions, but some small bit of gratitude is evident in her eyes.  It’s hidden enough so you wouldn’t see it if you didn’t know her, and Rey resists the urge to run to her. 

Instead, she furtively grabs Kylo’s hand beneath his cape as they walk out to face the throngs below, her mask firmly back in place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was neat. What did you all think? Happy at how it went? Sad that Poe's still breathing? Wondering when I'm just going to let Kittara go for it and have her murder spree?
> 
> Two people deserve huge, huge kudos for this chapter: Bunilicious, who made me a whole dang bunch of beautiful moodboards; and Saturnine Feline, who very kindly Beta'd this chapter to make sure it makes sense in the Grand Scheme of Things. Saturnine Feline is a lifesaver, and honestly, allowed me to re-focus and hammer out a bunch of other key scenes instead of spending my usual 8 days of hemming and hawing indecisively. Thank you so, SO much!
> 
> Thank you again to everyone for your support, love, and continued reading. I know I'm super behind on comment responses, but that's because I'm trying to push through writing this thing and get through all the scenes I've been dreading. I have read all of them, and they keep me going when the rest of me wants to lie on the couch and watch _Nailed It!_ all day, so thank you, thank you, thank you. 
> 
> A few reading notes:
> 
> \- Kittara Ren has a small group of her personal troopers that she calls Athenians. Because in case you haven't noticed, she's feminist AF and not apologizing for it. 
> 
> \- The Resistance working with Hutts is apparently a plotline in the Poe Dameron comics, so I incorporated that in here. It had already been hinted that they were working with some bad dudes, and really, the Hutts are the baddest of the bad dudes.
> 
> \- Rose now learns all the things Rey found out back in chapter... *checks notes, can't find exact chapter number* awhile ago. Months ago. Point is that finally came out now and I've been waiting for it for, like, _ever_.
> 
> \- ICYMI: All of you who thought Hux and Poe were in cahoots, pat yourselves on the back.


	40. Break the Ice

Rey’s careful façade shatters the moment they cross their hotel chamber threshold.  The door hisses shut behind them, just in time to hide the way grief overtakes her sun-kissed features, her knees wobbling as she tries to make it to the bedroom before her tears start falling.

Kylo scoops her up into his arms, carrying her like a bride to their bed.  He’s expected this tsunami of emotion, felt it building inside of her since her Resistance-scum _friends_ were tossed before them.  He knows he is not the cause of her grief; their Bond lets him see that she believes him to be the positive that has made all the pain worth while. 

Because to Rey, Kylo is _worthy_. 

But all of the good he’s brought doesn’t erase the hurt she’s suffered, something Kylo deeply understands.  After all, he’s spent the last few weeks working through his own emotional trauma, with her at his side through it all. 

He vows to return the favor - even if it kills him to see her face stained with blotches of angry red, to watch the way her tiny frame shakes with each sob as she crumples against him, unable to support herself as she falls apart. 

So Kylo Ren holds the last Jedi up, his bare hand rubbing small, gentle circles on her bare back.   Lets her weep into his jacket until he can feel his skin grow damp, despite being buried beneath layers of clothes.  He kisses her head and tells her how proud he is of her, just like she did for him. 

After a while, her muffled cries grow quiet.  Only the occasional soft hiccup rattles her body, as Kylo strums his fingers through her hair.  

“Do you think,” she murmurs into his sternum, where her head is buried between his pecs, “I went too far?”

The Traitor - erm, _Finn’s_ \- face flashes through her mind, his dark eyes heavy with realization as she unleashed her pent-up anger. 

“No,” he replies with a level of conviction he feels in his stomach.  Her fury was righteous, her tongue sharp and her head held high. She looked like an avenging angel, but this time, her vengeance was taken on her own behalf, for the wrongs she and she alone suffered. 

Finally accepting her own value, her own _worth_.

“He needed to hear it, and you needed to say it,” Kylo says out loud, catching her eyes with his own so she can see the honesty in them.  “Besides, you were much harsher to Poe.”

“Poe deserved it.”

“I don’t disagree. It was certainly convincing,” he gives her that lop-sided smirk, an echo of the same one his father gave his mother, the one that never failed to coax a smile out of the Princess. 

It has the same effect on Rey, and she barks out a laugh that makes his heart melt all over again. 

“I deserve an award for today’s performance,” she grins, fingers playing idly with his embroidered collar.

“Mmm,” he agrees, leaning down to kiss her tear-stained cheeks.  

“You do too,” she continues teasingly, before growing serious. “Kylo, I felt you… when I started to slip with Poe, I felt you grow… _lighter_. You kept us balanced, you brought me back -“

He silences her with a kiss, catching her pink lips in his own, twining them together.  It’s not because he doesn’t want her continue, but because it’s the only way he can respond.  His kiss is a promise, one they’ve spoken before and they’ll speak again and again.

_**You’re not alone.** _

_Neither are you._

He leans her back on the plush bed, pressing her into the mattress as he continues devouring her with his lips.  He needs the taste of her on his lips, honey sweet and more intoxicating than whiskey, so he thrusts his tongue into her mouth hungrily.  He’s determined to carry her flavor with him tomorrow, coating him as they finally see if all their plotting has paid off -

Her hands rise up to plant themselves on his chest so she can shove him away.  Their lips separate with a loud smack and he opens his eyes to see emeralds flashing dangerously in hers. 

“Don’t,” she warns, keeping him at arm’s length.  “Don’t you dare think you’re spending our last night together.  Don’t you dare think you’re kissing me for the last time. Don’t you _dare_.”  Her voice is fire and ice, her eyes hard with determination.  He feels her fear through the Bond, that he might do something stupid, that he might head in there with a half-cocked plan to sacrifice himself and leave her, as if she’d let him leave; as if she’d _survive_ him leaving.

“Sweetheart,” he sighs against her hold, fingers trailing down her arm. “I won’t leave you, I promise. I could never leave you.”

He ducks his head down for another kiss but she turns away, bristling. 

“Liar.”

Okay, that’s true, he admits to himself.  If push came to shove, he’d gladly give his life to save hers, but he’s certainly not _planning_ on that happening.  Nor does he want it to.  Kylo Ren may have once been borderline suicidal, yes; but that’s all changed.  

Now, that he’s finally accepted his own value, his own _worth_.

Rey’s elbows bend as she relaxes against him, seeing his thoughts through their Bond as if they were hers.  She’s satisfied with his intentions, and while she wants to argue with any silly notions he has about taking a blaster bolt for her, he knows she can’t.

Not when she’d do the exact same thing.

This time her lips seek his out, her hands fisting to pull him closer as they return to kissing each other till their heads spin from lack of oxygen.  They’re both too tired for anything more, their sexual appetites curbed by exhaustion. They kiss until Kylo’s barely-there stubble rubs Rey’s chin raw, lips plump and bitten.  He lets her go long enough so that they can each prepare for bed, and then they’re underneath the sheets, bodies entwined as they lazily kiss. Anticipation for tomorrow leaves them too keyed up for sleep, so they pour their anxiety into devouring kisses and raking hands, murmuring promises of love and devotion, although neither dares speak of the future.

Both know tomorrow could be their last day. Promises of _later_ will only sour the time they have.  So instead, they memorize each other between kisses, casting their hope up to the stars that they’ll have a lifetime together to make every unspoken promise a reality after tomorrow ends.

————————————

Across the city, a wiry man in an immaculate grey First Order uniform slips out from a non-descript cinder block building in Canto City’s warehouse district.  The building’s windows are suspiciously blacked out, but on a world catering to vice, no one looks too closely. Grand Marshal Armitage Hux is grateful for this, as well as for Kittara Ren’s obsession with discretion that allows him to move through the night without attracting attention.  The only beings nearby are passed out in puddles of booze and addiction, too far gone to notice the increased presence of humans with closely cut hair and thick muscles standing guard, or the flame-haired man who looks far too out of place while he waits for his speeder to arrive.

The Grand Marshal’s got many reasons to be grateful, here on the eve of his greatest moment.  He idly fingers the metal cylinder in his pants pocket, reassuring himself that it’s still where he put it after retrieving it from the nightclub’s bathroom stall.  

The Resistance idiots seem too caught up in their need for vengeance to realize what silly little pawns they’ve become to Hux, he preens. He worries slightly about the girl, though, the Haysian little rat with far too much sentiment to ever be an effective soldier. ‘Stupid girl,’ he thinks, before reminding himself that she’s not long for this life - nor are her so-called friends. 

Once they’re done helping Hux secure the First Order, he’ll give them the reward of a swift death and nothing more, he vows.

He find himself especially pleased with the day’s developments regarding Kittara Ren.  His precious girl fell for his sentimental act, and he’d watched with hidden amazement as she’d softened for him.  Hell, he almost thought she’d flirted with him at one point, and he remembers the way her hand grazed his back. It makes him hopeful that he’ll be able to break her faster - certainly, she’ll be displeased when he murders Kylo Ren, but he’s only ever allowed himself to dream of winning Kittara’s obedience through her desire to survive; nothing more. 

But now? Now, Hux dares to dream of something _more_ with her, a dangerous fantasy that he’d only rarely indulged in due to the vulnerability it creates.  He’s already half-aroused from watching her torture Poe Dameron earlier that night. He’d forced himself to intervene and convince her to stop before she did too much damage. He’d promised to protect the cocky pilot, and the Vice-Admiral’s survival was regrettably necessary, at least for the next 18 hours.  However, Hux was surprised at how easy it had been to convince Kittara Ren to cease her interrogation. He’d merely invoked Kittara’s baffling concern for “Rey’s feelings,” and that had been enough to get the Darksider to take her leave and let him handle the Resistance members. 

The problem with Armitage Hux has never been his brilliance, as the man is a verifiable genius.  No, his strategy has always faltered when his hubris clouded his foresight, his ego overriding his sharp instinct.  It is what has lead to the Grand Marshal’s failure time and time again. 

History, as they say, often repeats itself. 

Had Hux not allowed his overconfidence to cloud his judgment, he might have paid greater heed to his surprise at the ease of dismissing Kittara Ren - a woman who never let herself be _dismissed_. He might have taken more care when he looked up at the surrounding buildings, eyes lazily scanning the rooftops. The neon glow of downtown’s light cast an electric haze in the sky, and made the shadows dark, but not a true black. Had Hux been less cocky, maybe he’d have seen the black-clad figure crouched under a dark overhang, watching his every move. 

Instead, his luxury chrome hovercraft arrived just as the guards’ shift change began, and he climbed in without a second thought or glance.  Therefore, he missed the way Kittara Ren slipped out from her perch, jumping to the ground as his craft rounded the far corner, and slipped inside the fortified building with a nod from the newly-arrived Stormtroopers. 

She’ll catch up to Armitage Hux later; Kittara Ren has other business to contend with first.

Once she’s done at the makeshift prison, Kittara will use her handy tracking beacon to find him at a hotel only blocks away from the one where Hux is actually staying.  The hotel he enters is glitzy downtown monstrosity meant to attract old money. Despite its foreboding stone walls, each room features large picture windows, haphazardly tinted to offer the pretense of privacy.

Such pretense is meaningless when you have the First Order’s most powerful macrobinoculars in your hands.

The Knight will instantly recognize the hotel room’s other inhabitant: Hux’s mad scientist, the one developing the bioweapon to cut her, Kylo and Rey off from the Force. Kittara will be unable to suppress a silent smirk when she sees Hux hand the blond bioengineer a small metal cylinder with glass windows, clear liquid sloshing inside.

‘He took the bait, hook, line and sinker,’ she’ll think as watches, her body so still it’s as if she’s made of Carbonite.

Unlike the Grand Marshal, Kittara Ren won’t allow this small victory to make her cocky. She will stay at the scene until long after Hux leaves to return to their hotel, believing the Supreme Leader’s entourage ignorant of his scheming. She will wait patiently, until the scientist flips his lights off, and then for another twenty minutes after.  Only then will she finally unfurl herself from her perch on a neighboring building’s emergency escape. She will make her way back to her room in the shadows and the sewers, knowing cameras watch every street corner in Canto City.

Based on her intel, it will take Hux’s scientist twenty hours to extract the DNA from the cylinder and construct his last bioweapon. But her network of informants have informed her that Hux has ordered his co-conspirators to be in place within eighteen hours, meaning the scientist must have found a way to speed up the process.

A miscalculation here will cost them everything.

[Eighteen hours], Kittara will tell Kylo and Rey in an encrypted message. 

Eighteen hours.

Kittara Ren will not sleep.

Instead, she will plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of softness, and then I indulge my love of spy flicks by having Kittara go all Evil James Bond on Hux with a bit of a noir flare. SaturnineFeline deserves all the kudos in the Galaxy for beta-ing this chapter for me and helping me with my tenses so I could pull off the past/future tense switch at the end. She makes my crazy visions actually work, and I am eternally grateful.
> 
> I know many of you commented on how Kylo and Rey’s balancing manifested in the last chapter, which was probably minimized in the way I wrote it. her bringing that up again not only show's how much they've both grown, but also underscores that yes, they’ve balanced themselves. The only problem is that doesn’t mean the Galaxy’s on board… yet. 
> 
> Last but not least, I am still behind on responding to comments, and I am so sorry about that. I’m trying to push these chapters out so I can give you all the resolution you’ve been craving. I am reading all of them, and hearing your reactions to the last chapter was so, so satisfying. So please, keep feeding me with those, and I swear I’ll get to them all soon. 
> 
> One last quick canonverse note: Macrobinoculars are what Luke used on Hoth to search for Imperial spy droids - right before he got kidnapped by the Wampa.


	41. Bad Faith

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Trigger Warning: Unwanted sexual contact (non-explicit), creepy obsessive Hux, implied (non-verbally) threat of sexual assault.**

Anxiety.

Poe Dameron currently has it, in far larger amounts than he cares for. 

Normally, the Vice-Admiral of the Resistance doesn’t have to experience such a stomach twisting emotion. But, as he marches through the desert brush on the outskirts of Canto City with his hands cuffed in front of him, he’s racked with more anxiety than Threepio has in a standard day-cycle. 

The primary source of Poe’s nervousness isn’t from the squadron of Stormtroopers surrounding them as they walk. No, the reason for the growing lump in his throat is the petite redhead following not more than two steps behind him, stomping through the sun-bleached thicket whilst keeping pointing her unlit saber at his back. 

One wrong move, or twitch, and it’s hasta la vista, Dameron. 

(Honestly, he knows he doesn’t even need to move wrong. Kittara Ren would gladly find any excuse to cut him down in cold blood. Deal or no deal.)

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Finn sweating bullets as they make their way deeper into the chapparal, tinder-dry wood snapping under their feet. The ex-stormtrooper pauses when Rose stumbles, steadying her as well as he can with his bound arms. 

“Hands to yourself, Traitor,” Kittara growls. Poe can sense Kittara’s eyes remain locked on the back of his brown leather jacket. Even though he can’t see her, he can picture her every step. Before they started on their jaunt, Poe noticed that the Knight had changed from yesterday’s ornate gown into a black jumpsuit with a keyhole cutover over her sternum. It’s functional, lightweight enough to allow her to move comfortably without dying of heatstroke, while still fitting that unique style coveted by evil femme fetales. It clings to her skin while still offering some armor, which protects her from the razor-sharp bushes that tears at them. Poe still can’t figure out how her accompanying black cape isn’t getting caught on every thorn and bramble, but he knows it’s flowing behind her, somehow avoiding each potential snag.

Ahead of them, Grand Marshal Hux tromps through the undergrowth, his shiny black boots caked with a sheen of pinkish dust. Each heavy step summons another puff of dirt from Cantonica’s moisture-starved earth. 

‘Fuck,’ the Resistance leader thinks. Poe’s trying desperately to swallow the rising bile in his esophagus down. His apprehension’s not just over what’s currently happening, but what’s supposed to come _next._ After all, Grand Marshal Armitage Hux doesn’t take desert hikes for any reason but a good one, and according to Hux, he has a very compelling reason to dirty his spotless boots. From what Hux explained while visiting Poe and Finn in their cell last night, this is all a ploy to lead Kittara Ren away from her allies so that Poe, Finn, and Rose can escape to their waiting ship, hidden in the nearby scrub. Their window of opportunity will be a moment - although what exact moment, the ginger refused to say. 

Of course, Hux also refused to go into _how_ such a moment would be arising. While Poe’s very aware of the psychotic redhead’s plan to use some bio-weapon to cut off Rey, Kylo and Kittara from the Force (a rather key part of the plan that Hux had kept from his Resistance allies); Poe also knows that such a weapon will take time to complete. Given that Hux only received Rey’s DNA sample last night, thanks to a cloak-and-saber dead drop in a nightclub bathroom, Poe’s quite sure that the weapon’s not yet ready. 

Thus, the Vice-Admiral guesses that means their escape will be earned through a good old-fashioned fist fight. And while Poe’s never been the type to back down from a fight, the idea of attacking an already pissed off Kittara is not appealing.

Because, you know, taking down a not just a Force-user, but a fucking _Knight of Ren_ is that easy.

It has occurred to Poe many, many times that the First Order’s Grand Marshal has more than a screw loose, and this half-cocked plan, one that Poe feels he has not been fully briefed on, is just the latest piece of evidence supporting this theory. 

Then again, Poe’s starting to feel that Hux isn’t the only one concealing essential details. It’s too late to dwell on that thought; all Poe can do now is hope that they know what they’re doing. 

His split lip throbs, the arid climate making the wound grow deeper, and he runs his tongue over it. This only makes the cut sting in protest, his attempt at soothing failing miserably. The lancing pain reminds him of just how far Kittara Ren will go, and a spark of indignation flares in his chest. A litany of biting comments dance on the tip of his tongue, but the dark-haired pilot knows better than to poke the proverbial saber-wielding loth-cat. 

For once, he keeps his mouth shut.

Their march through the scrub continues, until all three of the prisoners’ clothing bear new holes. Poe feels like every step leeches more and more liquid out of him, as if the planet’s sucking away every last drop of moisture. During his mission briefing, Kaydel explained that the desert badlands outside of Cantonica’s terraformed cities are barely hospitable to human life.

Poe now believes that description stretches the meaning of “hospitable.”

As they wander, Poe starts losing faith in Hux’s plan (not that he had much to begin with). Poe wonders if Hux lost his nerve at taking on an enemy as formidable as Kittara Ren, a thought that brings a rush of relief. He’s caught up in this wishful thinking when his peripheral vision catches something that looks like sparks in the brush off to his side, and Poe swivels his head to look at it. He sees Finn’s head turning too, the whole group distracted by the sudden flash. His eyes search the brush, looking for the specks’ resting place. A spark out here could entrap them all in an inferno. 

A scream pierces the air, one very different than Rose’s earlier one. It snaps his attention away from the brush in order to find its source. At first, he looks over at Rose, only to see her face etched with open fear as she gapes behind her. Poe’s neck cranes as he twists around further to find the source of the scream. 

There’s a needle jammed in Kittara’s pale neck, Hux’s black gloved hand pushing down on a plunger as the redheaded Knight desperately tries to squirm away from him. The Grand Marshal’s got her pinned against his chest, and whatever he’s injecting into her veins inflicts enough pain to keep her there. 

“Shh, pet, I’m not going to kill you,” Poe hears Hux whisper, as if trying to soothe her, his enemy. There’s something dangerously off about his tone that makes Poe’s blood run cold. 

The sparkle in Kittara’s brown eyes fades, as they grow wider and wider with realization. Poe knows his own expression matches hers, his mind processing the scene before him to reach the same conclusion as hers:

The bio-weapon is ready, and Kittara Ren is its first victim. 

Poe Dameron’s only seen fear etched on Kittara Ren’s face once, in a terrible moment where she lost the one thing that Poe always believed kept her connected to the light. But now, as chemicals rob Kittara’s connection to the Force, he sees that same horrified look again. 

“Hux- what… no. No!” she tries freeing herself again, wrestling against the lithe man’s grip. But the drug must be paired with a potent sedative, her legs crumpling out from underneath her. Hux’s twisted grin only grows as he keeps her locked in place, pressed tightly against him as her body goes limp. They sink to the ground in unison, as if dancers in a nauseating ballet. 

The bastard’s enjoying this, Poe realizes. A wave of nausea washes over him as the exact consequences of the last few seconds finally register in his mind. 

Oh, _fuck_. 

This is very, very, very bad. 

“What the fuck did you just do?” Poe shouts, not even needing to feign his bewilderment (even though he knows exactly what Hux has done). 

“Relax, Vice-Admiral, she’ll be fine soon, it’s just a mild sedative, as well as a special cocktail to help level the playing field. She’ll live, trust me.” Hux’s voice is casual, almost sing-song. “Besides, I couldn’t let her kill you. A deal’s a deal, after all.”

“You - you took the Force - I can’t -“ desperation glimmers in Kittara’s eyes. She summons the strength to lift one trembling hand, reaching out like she’s trying to grab onto a rope. “How? My DNA, you weren’t supposed to be able to-“

“Oh, my sweet Amara,” Now Hux’s gloating, invoking Kittara Ren’s birthname, and Poe sees her cherubic face stiffen in response. “Maybe next time you should be more careful when depositing bodies in my bed. Although, I must say, I appreciated your gift. You know, I could still smell you there, even though you’d just been there a moment.” Hux’s finger begins running along the exposed part of Kittara’s clavicle while he rambles, the other arm still pinning her in place. Disgust twists the Knight’s pretty lips into a scowl, and Poe’s stomach roils. The madman pays no mind to the reactions of those around him, continuing his deranged rant. “Your damn perfume haunted me that night, like you were trying to drive me mad. But it was worth finding that one strand of hair you’d shed - so sloppy.” Hux tsks. “As if you wanted me to find it.”

Kittara’s eyes clench shut, as if trying to block out Hux’s taunts and his finger tracing patterns on her bare skin. Poe’s fists clench, and he wishes he’s free of his binder cuffs so he could beat the ever-loving life out of the man before him.

‘Remember the mission,’ his subconscious warns, except now, his inner voice sounds oddly like the wilting Knight before him.

“Don’t worry, pet. We won’t need to play games anymore. I’ll take good care of you.” he can hear Hux breath into her ear. A second later, her body goes limp, eyes closing as her head rolls back to rest against Hux’s shoulder. It’s as if the injustice of such a powerful woman ensnared by the claws of such a heartless man is too much for Kittara to handle.

To the casual observer, the protective way Hux clasps the Knight against him, like a child with a coveted prize, could almost look romantic - if romance had gone sickeningly wrong. 

The Grand Marshal stands, lifting Kittara’s limp body as he rises. The motion jostles her shoulder, and something small and metallic falls out of Kittara’s left fist. It rolls across the ground with a clink, coming to rest in a pile of duff between Hux and Poe. Poe blinks, his eyes focusing so his brain can register the nature of the object.

It’s a commlink.

Poe doesn’t need the Force to know who was listening. 

Neither does Hux. 

“Fuck,” the ginger swears, finally encountering a kink in his well-laid plans. As he curses, the Trooper to Poe’s left removes his helmet, revealing the sweaty face of a high ranking First Order Captain - one the Resistance suspects is loyal to Hux. 

At least Poe can count on their intelligence being accurate. 

“Did I tell you to take your helmet off, Captain?” Hux snaps. 

“Grand Marshal, it was hot and hard to see-“

“Put. It. ON!” he yells, face reddening as he does. “The Supreme Leader and his whore’s been alerted, we no longer have the advantage.”

“Then why do we -“

“SHUT UP!” There’s a vein on Hux’s left temple that looks like its about to explode, and the “Troopers” fall silent, immediately cowed. 

And here Poe thought Kylo Ren had a temper. 

“Dameron. I trust that you’ll hold up the last part of our agreement?” Hux’s voice was calmer, almost dangerously smooth, but his face is still flushed with fury. 

“I always hold up my end of the deal, Hux,” Poe manages to only half-growl, choking down bile as he does. Self-preservation keeps the olive skinned man from taunting the unhinged Grand Marshal any further (as well as his surprising concern for his one-time friend). 

“I hope so, Vice-Admiral, or else I’ll be disappointed that I didn’t let her kill you.” Hux glares back, blue orbs calming into frozen seas as he appraises the Resistance leader. Poe manages to swallow down his pride and fury enough to pass the ginger’s inspection, and Hux steps back with a nod. “Captain Jezz, undo their cuffs.”

Poe glances over at his friends for the first time since Kittara screamed, silently praying that they’ve been able to maintain their game faces to some degree. Rose’s jaw is set, squared, her eyes narrowed, but she’s impressively calm, her face mostly unreadable. It’s why Poe insists on taking the petite Captain on these missions: not only is she whip smart and a decent co-pilot, but she’s got a mask that can fool the most hardened Sabacc hustler. 

Finn’s not faring nearly as well, his dark skin ashen as he sucks in a deep breath. His eyes seem wild, unsure, and they dart around the small clearing before landing on Poe’s.

‘Please,’ Poe pleads with his eyes for a fraction of a moment, before dropping back behind his own hardened mask. 

The “Trooper” behind Poe steps forward. He first releases Rose, then Finn (albeit a little more roughly than necessary), before finally undoing Poe’s cuffs. The helmets clearly encumbers the man’s vision, as it takes him more than one try to get the binders off for each of them. 

When Poe’s wrists are finally freed, he can’t help but rub at the all-too familiar ache in the knob of his wrists.

“What about Kittara Ren?” one of the men dressed in Stormtrooper armor interjects before Hux can dismiss his conspirators and allow them to make their escape. 

“She’s coming with us,” Hux snaps, and clamps Kittara a little closer to his breast, like a selfish toddler being told to share. 

“What? Grand Marshal, that was never part of the deal, keeping a Knight of Ren alive!” Captain Hot and Sweaty protests, stepping forward. One of his fists is clenched with anger, and Poe observes noiselessly, curious as to what happens next. 

“I never said we were killing all of the Knights of Ren. Besides, she’s been administered the drug, she’s cut off from the Force.”

“This is insane!” Now the man on Poe’s right jumps in, his frustration not dampened by his helmet’s vocoder. “Do you possibly think that you can control Kittara Ren, Hux? You’re endangering all of us, and I will not participate if she lives a second lon-“

His diatribe’s cut off by a blaster bolt to the chest, well-targeted to hit one of the weakest parts of a Stormtrooper’s armor (because protecting a soldier’s heart in battle apparently runs counterintuitive to every evil dictatorship hellbent on achieving galactic dominance). 

“Your participation is no longer needed, Captain,” Hux says coolly, lowering his smoking blaster. Poe has to admit that it’s an impressive shot, considering he’s also supporting the dead weight of Kittara’s body. 

So much for being only brains, Poe thinks, re-evaluating his characterization of the Grand Marshal.

“Any other concerns?” Hux asks.

Everyone stays silent. 

“Good. Let me know when you’re at the rendezvous point, Vice-Admiral Dameron.” Hux nods curtly, dismissing the three rebels. Finn and Rose seem more than ready to get out of there, immediately scrambling into the safety of the brush.

Poe follows his friends a little more slowly. Dread chokes at his throat, his belly filling with lead. His body aches, as if physically protesting leaving Kittara Ren behind and in the clutches of Hux’s obsession. 

Knight of Ren or not, she doesn’t deserve whatever Armitage Hux has planned for her. 

As he reaches the edge of the clearing, Poe can’t help but look back over his shoulder. He sees Hux carrying her bridal style back out the way they came. Her black clad arms hang limply, and her red hair snags in an overhanging tree, tearing a small clump of it out. 

“Poe, come _on_ ,” Finn grabs his wrist, yanking the Vice-Admiral into the thicket, breaking him out of his trance. 

As he runs towards their hidden ship, resolve hardens in Poe’s heart. As he skids into the cockpit of the small Resistance ship, he whispers a prayer to the stars above and a promise to his former friend.

Then he squares his jaw and begins preparing for take-off as Rose slides into the seat next to him. 

His mission’s never been more certain.

As he lifts them off from Cantonica, his silent vow keeps ringing in his ears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so, so, so, so sorry. *flees angry hordes of Kittara Ren fans* 
> 
> Also, as a highly relevant reminder: I do not believe rape should be used as a plot device, nor will there be any rape of anyone in this fic. Things will get dark and creepy, but that’s it. 
> 
> This chapter was unbeta’ed so that SaturnineFeline also got to experience the surprise. All typos and errors are thanks to yours truly. And apologies if it comes off awkward in it's writing. I wrote and re-wrote it so many times, y'all, and I still don't love my Poe Dameron voice. But, hopefully, it does it right and it works.
> 
> Reading notes:

> 
> Per _The Last Jedi Visual Dictionary_ , Cantonica is a desert planet. It’s corporate owners used terraforming to create Canto Bight, which I’ve expanded to Canto City. I don’t know if there’s scrub brush there, but I wanted it to be different than Tatooine and Jakku, so I made it more like the desert in California around Campo/Lake Morena on the PCT. 
> 
> This officially confirms that when Hux went to “get a drink” in Chapter 38, he is actually getting the metal vial that Kittara sees him handing to his mad scientist in Chapter 40. 
> 
> To be clear, eighteen hours has not passed since the end of Chapter 40. Kittara’s estimate was wrong.


	42. Contingency

_Crack!_

The sharp sound of a metal commlink shattering under Kylo Ren’s vise-like grip echoes across the Canto City launchpad.  It probably would have stilled the five figures in front of his bat-winged shuttle. That is, had they not already been frozen by the events transpiring in the nearby badlands, transmitted via the now fractured commlink becoming dust inside Kylo’s gloved fist. 

The noise spurs a shell-shocked Rey to her lover’s side, hazel eyes wide and face pale from what they just heard.  She wraps her smaller hand over his, but her lips remain pressed tight, her mind still searching for the right words.  

 _ **Kittara**_ , his heart cries mournfully while rage eats at his gut. 

One thing’s for sure: he is absolutely going to fucking murder Hux for touching her.  It’s not like he wasn’t already planning on murdering him, but now, he’s going to make the ginger prick _suffer_. 

Stone-faced, the Jedi Killer looks out over the city, towards the thick scrub that dot the sandy hills just beyond the edge of the city’s terraforming beacons.  He’s too far away to pick out anything specific, much less the crimson mane of his First Knight. Desperately, he reaches out with the Force, only for his wordless call to go unanswered, her signature vanished.

It is unnerving, the sudden lack of her in the Force.  Even after a Force user dies, echoes of their signature persists for a time, albeit a short one. 

Hux’s vile new weapon erases Kittara from the Force like she never existed.

“Ben,” Rey says gently, softly. “We need to get out of here. We need to get to the _Finalizer_.”

“She’s right,” Alpha nods, stepping back towards them. His helmet prevents Kylo from reading his expression, but he imagines it matches his own. Even though his brain knows they’re right, his damned, too-soft heart recoils at the idea of turning tail and running.  He whirls around, darkness seeping into his soul and painting his face with anger as he glares back at them.

“No,” he growls.  He resists the dueling urges to cling to Rey and also push her away at the same time, instead focusing on winning this argument. “We need to save Kittara.”

“Kylo,” Rey intentionally switches to his chosen name, her voice firmer, yet still tender. “She did this to buy us time. We’ll have a chance to save her, I promise. But we can’t let this-“

“Did you hear what he said to her, Rey? How he talked to her? He’s fucking obsessed with her, he’s sick, who knows what he’ll do to her?” Kylo erupts, surging towards her as he does. 

(Deep down, he knows that Rey knows all too well what Hux is capable of. He’s seen her memories of Jakku and the wretched souls that polluted their sands, how she hid from them. But he’s too lost in his grief to recognize the irony of his words, how there’s a string of resignation weaving its way through her Force aura.)

“I know, Kylo. I know. But Kittara’s a smart girl, she can protect herself-“

“Yeah? That’s what she thought, and it got her kidnapped by Hux! She’s helpless without the Force-“

“She is not helpless!” Rey yells back, and for a moment, everyone is silent. “I wasn’t helpless before I awakened. Kittara can take care of herself. Hux is expecting us now, Kylo. We’d be walking into a trap. We have to protect ourselves, or else all of this - the new Order, balancing the Force, _Mirrorbright_ , everything we’ve worked for, together - will be for naught.”

Naturally, Rey’s commlink chooses to ping at this very moment, the chime interrupting the face-off between the lovers.  As Rey goes to read it, Kylo’s mind swirls, emotions twisting like a ship in a storm. 

Kittara’s always protected him.  He can’t leave her behind, can’t leave her with Hux.  His stomach twists at the thought of her helpless, unable to defend herself from Hux’s lecherous gaze and hands.  It’s not like he ever considered Hux to be “honorable”, per se. The man blew up an entire planetary system with a song in his heart; he’s always known Hux’s thirst for control, for power, is unquenchable.  But there was always an impersonality in his violence, some level of separation to keep the General from directly dirtying his hands. Even when he murdered his father, he did it with an assassin’s bullet, too gutless to pull the trigger himself.  He never thought Armitage Hux would _personally_ lower himself to such depravity, but Kylo’s learning how wrong he was about Armitage Hux.

On the other hand, Kittara still tried to protect him, protect _them_.  A soldier - no, a loyal friend - till the end. She’s warned them, taking away Hux’s element of surprise.  And Rey’s right, even without the Force, Kittara Ren’s still a woman not to be trifled with. 

“It’s Rose. Hux let them go, told Poe to meet them at the rendezvous point. They’re heading back to their ship now.” Rey’s voice conveys the urgency beneath her words.

_Everything is falling into place. It’s now or never._

Except Kittara, Kylo thinks bitterly. 

The other, more rational part of his brain reminds him that if they chase after Hux now, he puts both his and Rey’s lives in danger, and the thought makes his blood run cold.  Fuck his own personal safety, but Rey- this was dangerous enough for her. 

After all, if Hux has already poisoned Kittara- 

Dread hits him like a bantha ramming his chest at full speed as it dawns on him that Hux wouldn’t dare using the weapon on Kittara if he didn’t think he’d already administered it to Rey and Kylo. 

The universe always has the most impeccable timing; at the exact moment Kylo connects the dots, the bio-weapon kicks in.  A sucking pressurization in his head brings him to his knees, making him howl in pain, before finally it bursts, leaving Kylo Ren numbed, his senses dulled.  He’s left with a hollowness inside, a dull thrumming of severed nerve endings and the feeling of missing something. It feels like his dominant hand’s been chopped off, even though he can see they’re both still connected to his wrists. 

His blood runs cold as he realizes how lost he is now, and what this means.

One of the Galaxy’s most powerful Force-users is facing the fight of his life without the Force.  

—————————————————-

Rey whirls around, bewildered, as Kylo’s presence in the Force evaporates into thin air like _Starkiller_ did to the Hosnian System.  It feels like he’s yanked away from her, and she panics until her hazel eyes find him.

“Kylo?” she half-yelps, seeing his crouched form, panting and very alive behind her, just… empty.  As Kylo’s eyes fly up to hers, they’re filled with fear, and Rey realizes that the usual shimmer of his Force aura is gone. 

“I can’t- Rey, Hux - he got us too. I can’t feel the Force.” His voice is tight, panicked, and Rey feels bile rise in her throat.  She swallows it back down, fear numbing the acidic burn in her esophagus. Her heartbeat drums in her ears.

“It’s okay, Kylo, it’s okay. I’m here.” she promises, resting her hand on his black-caped back.  His skin feels fever hot, even through all his layers. Rey frowns, noting the sweat beading on Kylo’s forehead as he tries to reach out, to grasp the Force.  Exhausted by the effort, he ends up leaning against her for support, the warmth of his body the only thing telling her that he’s still there. 

Rey tries to breathe evenly, forcing herself to stay calm even though it’s too quiet now, without his signature bright and vibrant beside her.  It’s a testament to how much she’s come to rely on the Force, since awakening less than a standard year ago. It also speaks to how much solace she finds in just feeling Kylo there through the Force. The Bond has been a constant reminder that she’s not alone since it awakened, since she awakened, and -

There’s a familiar tickle at the back of her mind, faint, almost like a ghost, but oh, Rey’s heart lifts when she feels it.  It’s as if the thought of their Bond allowed Rey to finally see it, and she grasps onto her end of it like it’s a lifeline. It floods her with a sense of familiarity, of _Ben_ , and it’s like finding shelter in the midst of a sandstorm.  Rey can sense him now, barely, feel the panic, fear, _rage_ swirling through him as he struggles to right himself without the Force.

The fact that Rey can still feel the Bond, still feel Kylo’s emotions through it, although muted, gives Rey the mental strength to wrest herself away from the panic choking her. Instead, she focuses her mind on seeing what still works (a tried and true tactic for regaining control, one learned from her years of scavenging). 

_Can you hear me?_ she asks, not allowing hope to bloom in her stomach just yet. 

_**Yes. Barely.**_  His normally booming voice is now but a whisper in her ear, but it's there, and Rey allows a spark of optimism to catch inside her.  

“Our food. Or the drinks. He must’ve tampered with them somehow, must’ve done something time-released,” Kylo wheezes, still trying to catch his breath as he adapts to the shock of suddenly being cut off from the Force. 

_**But you haven’t been**_ , he realizes, his dark eyes filling with wonder.  He looks up with her in that way that makes her feel like an undeserving goddess, especially now that the dynamics between them are so unbalanced.  He’s right though - Rey hasn’t been cut off. She can still feel the Force, the constant hum in her ears unchanged and her veins of energy pure, unfiltered.  

“It worked,” she breathes, trying her damndest to keep her voice even.  

“I can’t believe Hux fell for it.” Kylo’s gaze burn into hers, and even through their muted Bond, Rey feels the burst of hope inside him.  

 _All is not lost_ , she promises.  

She thinks she hears him agree.

—————————————————-

_**Nine Hours Earlier** _

—————————————————-

Rose Tico sits in her white-walled cellblock, short legs swinging off the edge of the cot.  An experienced interrogator would know that this is a nervous reflex, a twitch disguised as boredom.

Surprisingly, there’s been no interrogation of the Resistance captain.  Her cell for the night, while spartan, is regulated to a comfortable temperature, and Kittara Ren’s promise of protection has held true.  No one has come to bother Rose, outside of a food delivery from a tall woman with a shock of short blonde hair and a gruff, but kind face.  Rose could make out strong, sculpted shoulders, even under the thick breastplate of her Trooper armor. She’s deduced that this courier must be one of the infamous Athenians under Kittara Ren’s command.

Rose’s thoughts are interrupted by the hydraulic whoosh of her cell door sliding open.  As if summoned by Rose’s wandering thoughts, Kittara Ren glides into the room with her usual cat-like grace.  Gone is the woman’s earlier formal gown; she’s also abandoned her trademark cowl for a skin-tight, black and gray jumpsuit that looks like it might be armored in key places. 

She looks like a burglar, the whole outfit giving the impression that Kittara Ren’s been creeping around in the night. The thought feels ludicrous at first, because Rose is quite sure that Kittara Ren has minions to handle this for her.  Nor can she imagine the fiery woman silently slipping through the shadows, but then again, Rose gets the sense that there’s nothing the Knight of Ren isn’t capable of. 

“Captain Tico,” Kittara purrs, red lips curled into something not quite a smile or a smirk.  “I trust you’ve found your accommodations… acceptable?”

“I’ve had worse,” Rose says plainly, dark eyes wary as she assesses the woman before her.  Sure, they’re allies (for now), but Rose’s engrained mistrust of Darksiders keeps her cautious. 

Kittara’s grin only widens, and she leaps up onto the cot across from Rose’s.  It occurs to Rose that she might be the same height as Kittara Ren, as her booted feet also don’t touch the floor.  

She thought Knights of Ren were supposed to be… taller. 

“No one’s bothered you?” Kittara asks, eyes flickering towards the door.  They both know who she’s talking about. 

“No,” Rose confirms, and after a beat, she softly adds, “thank you.”

A tense silence fills the small space, Kittara Ren watching Rose and Rose watching the redhead right back. 

“Are Finn and Poe all right?” Rose finally asks, the silence becoming too much.  She allows concern to leak into her voice and her eyes, too exhausted from her performance earlier to wear her impassive mask any longer. 

“They’re fine. Hux doesn’t want to do anything that could jeopardize his coup, not now. Not at this point.”  Kittara says, with only the slightest hint of disappointment. 

“And Rey?”

At this, a true smile appears on Kittara’s lips, as if she’s proud of the Resistance member for asking. 

“Rey’s fine. Probably a little distraught, but-“

“She was right to say what she said. I’m glad she did.” Rose cuts off the other woman, who arches an eyebrow at the steel in the Haysian woman’s voice.

“I had gathered that you also disapproved of what Dameron did. I’m glad to get confirmation of that, Captain Tico.” Kittara’s voice is still velvet smooth, and Rose can’t help but feel oddly relaxed around the woman responsible for Gods-only-know how many murders. The room feels slightly warmer, but not to the point of stuffiness, and there’s a pleasant tingle at the base of Rose’s cervical spine. 

“The question is, of course, whether your mission was a success? I saw the drop made. Was it the package we discussed?” Kittara asks, her voice even-tempered, calm, as if they’re not on the praecipe of a battle, as if their friends aren’t in even more danger than usual.  The Knight’s candor removes any lingering concern of the room being bugged, as Kittara Ren doesn’t seem like the type of person who would overlook such an obvious possibility.

“Don’t worry, both my Athenians and I did a full sweep for any potential listening devices and removed them. Plus, there’s a fun Darksider party trick that helps ensure all your scheming stays private.” The redhead punctuates this last sentence with a playful wink.  It’s almost charming, and Rose might feel a little more charmed had it not also revealed that the Darksider’s clearly reading her mind.

“Can you not? I don’t really like people inside my head.”

Kittara chuckles at this, and there’s another whispering lull of warmth that washes over Rose.  It sucks some of the tension from her muscles, siphoning away the wariness look in her eyes. 

“If it helps, I don’t intend to, Captain Tico.”

Rose doesn’t want to admit that it actually kind of does help, so instead, she affixes the Knight with the sternest glare she can muster. 

“You’ve made your point, Rebel. Now care to answer my question?” Amusement colors Kittara’s words, muting the potential threat lurking behind them. It’s an implicit truce, one that’s necessary for this strange alliance Rose finds herself in the middle of. 

“Yes. The DNA inside isn’t Rey’s, but Hux should think it is.”  Rose finally confirms, punctuating it with a curt nod. Rose herself had filled the canister, taking an old vial of Paige Tico’s DNA and pouring it in a tube meant for Rey’s.

A fitting use for one of the last remnants of her sister.

Kittara exhales ever so softly, an odd huff of air that Rose thinks might be a sigh of relief.  “Good. Time for me to make sure he falls for it, then,” Kittara says, before hopping off the cot and onto the ground.  

“Just how do you propose to do that?” Rose can’t help but ask.

“Do you really want to know?” The redhead tosses back, and Rose bites her lower lip, worrying it between her teeth before answering. 

“No, I suppose I don’t.”

“Good call,” Kittara responds.  Rose watches as the redhead digs a hand into a previously hidden pocket, plunging it deeper than Rose thought possible.  She withdraws it to reveal a small metal box, slightly bigger than her hand but still discreet enough that Rose can easily conceal it in her jumpsuit.  “Here, this is for you. Commlinks and codes inside. It should get your team what you need. Make sure it’s hidden when we come for you in the morning. My Athenians will be the one to screen you for weapons, they know to let this past.”

She tosses it to Rose, who catches it easily with both hands.  Whatever’s in the box is wrapped so tightly that it doesn’t rattle when shaken, and Rose can’t help but think that Kittara Ren, Darksider or not, is pretty damn good at her job. 

“Thanks.” Rose says, not sure of what else to say. ‘Nice conspiring with you’ doesn’t seem quite right, even though that is what they’re doing. 

“We think Hux will make his move in the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours. Maybe sooner. It all depends on how soon he can get his bioweapon ready.  If it’s sooner, I’ll tap your left wrist twice tomorrow morning.” The Knight instructs, gathering her straight red locks into a tight topknot. The move reveals a black hood attached to the collar of her jumpsuit, which the woman pulls over her head to hide her tresses. 

As Kittara turns to leave, Rose calls out (for reasons unknown to her, other than the fact that an ally’s an ally, especially an ally against Armitage Hux), “Hey, Ren.”

The petite Knight pauses.

“May the Force be with you.”

Rose swears that Kittara smiles at this, even if she can’t see her face. 

“And also with you, Tico.”

With another swish of the doors, Kittara Ren is gone, and Rose’s left alone in her cell again. 

Legs kicking with anticipation as she waits for morning to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm BAAAAAAAAAACK!!!! And Holy Plot Twist, Batman! I’m sure some of y’all were wondering why I made such a big deal out of that weird tense change in Kittara’s Noir James Bond scene back in Ch. 40 - and now you know. It’s because that’s where the Rose/Kittara conversation was taking place. 
> 
> To those of you going, BUT WAIT, LILAH, THIS MAKES NO SENSE AFTER CHAPTER 39 THAT ROSE IS A DOUBLE AGENT, WHEN DID THAT HAPPEN???!? I urge you to go re-read Chapter 39 very, very carefully. Take careful note of what Rey senses and feels with the Force, versus what her observations are. Note where the punches that are pulled, and where Rey’s inner thought let her intentions slip. Also, remember Chapter 40, where Rey asked if she thought it was “too much”. We already knew Kylo Rey was a damn good actor from when he faked out Snoke and killed him. And he is not the only one. I’ve been slipping in more and more hints in the last 3 chapters while trying to preserve all the surprises. 
> 
> Also, thanks to everyone for their tremendous amounts of patience with that cliffhanger while February kicked my ass in eight ways with a crazy schedule. As those of you who read my notes already know, my day job takes full priority over writing (and basically everything else), so there are some times when that will prevent me from posting. I'm hoping that I can avoid any more gaps until April, when I have another two crazy weeks. But I will finish this out, and I'm gonna try my best to crank some shit out this month and get us closer to the end.
> 
> Finally, massive love and thanks to my amazing beta, Lost Tooka Cat. She deserves all the kudos in the world for helping me translate "Lilah" to "English" (or something closer to English) and cleaning up all of my word vomit. You are the best.


	43. Closing Arguments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a long hiatus, we're back with our heroes as they continue to recover from Hux's capture of Kittara Ren and using his bio-weapon to deprive Kylo of the Force. Kylo makes his final appeal to the First Order's stormtroopers, but will they choose to fight with him? Or will Hux's brainwashing prove to be too strong to break through?

Gravity presses Rey’s back into her seat as Omega carefully steers the shuttle away from Cantonica.  Red-tinged clouds drape over the cockpit, masking the cerulean glow that marks the end of the planet’s atmosphere.  Rey sits behind Alpha, the co-pilot, watching him pull up a lever and give the engines more power. Her fingers itch with desire to fly, to fight, to be useful. 

Right now she feels anything but useful. 

The one good thing about Kylo being cut off from the Force is that it’s easier to hide her thoughts from him now, and Maker knows, Rey can’t let on how terrified she is.  How lost she feels. The weight of the galaxy rests on her shoulders alone, and it’s crushing her. 

She clenches her hand into a fist to hide her twitching, a move she’s surely picked up from her lover. 

They burst through the last layer of clouds, and the light fades as the shuttle glides smoothly into the inky black of space.  The three Star Destroyers that had escorted Rey, Kylo and Kittara to Cantonica wait silently, giants looming before them.

Rey blinks back a tear when she remembers one of those Destroyers is Kittara’s, and how her devoted crew must be waiting for their Knight’s return. 

Kylo and Terror are deep into setting up Kylo’s address to the Stormtroopers, going over the speech written days ago and making sure their codes haven’t been compromised.  It is easy for Rey to slip away, mumbling an excuse about her assignment.

Kylo looks up at her as she moves, searching her face with concern.  Rey tries to look as nonchalant as possible, rubbing a hand over his broad shoulder and promising him she’ll be back before he goes live. 

Her thoughts continue swirling behind her walls as she walks into the main cabin.  She pretends she doesn’t see how her hand trembles as she punches in a code to open a fingerprint pad, how her thumb’s almost too sweaty to unlock the small safe. 

She pulls the small commlink out of its hiding place, flicking it on. It’s heavy in her hands, like it, too, has become burdened by this hitch in their plan. Sure, they’d had a Plan B that’s working out, but Rey never thought about the consequences behind it. 

Ever since Rey’s awakening, Kylo’s been right behind her, a shadow to her sun.  His energy, dark and yet so bright, drew her to him like a black hole, reminding her she’s not the only one.  Even when she most hated him, she felt him, a reassuring presence reminding her there was at least one other like her out there.

An equal. 

And better yet, an equal who was not her equal, thanks to his decades of training.  It was Kylo who taught Rey most of what she knows. He was the one was powerful enough to kill Snoke in the end, saving Rey from certain death and failure. He’d easily bested her in the forest on Takodana. It was only because he’d been at such a disadvantage on Starkiller that she’d had a chance to best him. Even then, had he honestly been trying to kill her, she’s not sure she would have beaten him. 

It’s different being part of a pair, to share the mantle of destiny with someone.  Especially when that someone is as brilliantly glorious as Ben Solo, who was raised knowing he was meant to do great things.

This was exactly why Rey sought Ben Solo out when she left Ahch-To; why she begged him to join the Resistance. So she wouldn’t have to be the hero in the end, the person responsible for saving not just her own skin, but everyone else’s. It was too easy to rationalize. After all, the prophecies, the stories making up this saga were all about Skywalkers, and Rey’s no Skywalker. 

As Kylo himself once reminded her, there’s no place for her in this story. The hero’s supposed to be the fallen prince looking for redemption, the lost heir reclaiming his place, not some beggar girl from Jakku who couldn’t even make her parents stay - much less love her.

And yet, somehow the story’s gone terribly wrong. The plot’s off course and now she is the only one with the Force. Sure, Kylo has some access to it through their Bond, but it’s limited. Fleeting. 

Rey even feels off-balance, like the galaxy itself is revolting at the notion of her as its last hope.  Her stomach churns ominously, the creeping burn of bile making its way up her esophagus. 

A trill ringing noise breaks Rey out of her spiral.  For a second, she’s so disoriented that she looks up for the source of the sound before she realizes it's the commlink in her hand. 

Ahsoka’s distinctive figure appears before her the second Rey answers the call.  She’s wearing a violet cloak with a deep hood, one that will allow her to travel undetected. 

“Ahsoka,” Rey forces a smile, swallowing her fear.

A good scavenger, hiding her weaknesses.

“Rey, what happened? Kylo and Kittara Ren have vanished from the Force.” Ahsoka’s eyes are tight with worry, the wrinkles in her forehead even more prominent than usual.  It’s clear she fears the worst. 

“They’re alive, but Hux finished his bio-weapon early.”

“Thank the Force,” the Togruta breathes a deep sigh of relief.

“That’s the good news,” Rey warns, and the holo stills. 

“Well, you still have the Force, so that’s also good news. Meaning Plan B worked.”

“Yeah, it worked, but Hux caught us completely off guard.” Rey bites her lip, not sure how to phrase the next sentence.  

“What do you mean?”

“He got Kittara. Captured her, that is.” Bluntness is Rey’s default, her old habits resurfacing. 

“Fuck,” Ahsoka snarls. 

“He’s apparently obsessed with her. Like, ‘wants to make her his trophy empress’ obsessed.” Rey explains, if such insanity can be explained. 

“I always knew he was crazy. But this? This goes way beyond what I expected from him.”

Rey doesn’t say anything, guilt from her unspoken suspicions now gnawing at her gut. 

“How many objects has Kylo destroyed?” Ahsoka asks warily.  For a second, Rey wants to ask how she knows about the First Knight’s temper tantrums, before remembering the tight timeline they’re on. 

“Only one. He’s… adjusting.”

“And the Bond?”

“Still there,” Rey admits. “And you were right, I can still… almost send him pieces of the Force through it. It’s my energy, but he can use it. A bit.” She worries her lip between her teeth again, resisting the urge to curl further into herself.

Instead, she asks, “Why did the bio-weapon work, when we achieved balance?”

“On Kylo? Why do you think?” Ahsoka asks, as if she’s reading Rey’s mind from across space. 

‘Because there was always light in him,’ her subconscious whispers.  Rey doesn’t answer, at least not out loud, but Ahsoka hums knowingly. 

Then she leans forward, peering into the holo-viewer closely.  Grey-blue eyes scour Rey, examining her like a piece of salvage. 

“Rey. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Rey forces out.  She absolutely will not let her lip quiver, so she bites down on it, hard. 

“Rey.” Ahsoka leans in even further, like Maz did when she examined Rey with her glasses the first time she met.  It’s an uncanny similarity, and makes Rey feel just as scrutinized now as she did then. 

(She wonders if there’s a secret school for older, Force-sensitive women that teaches these kinds of things.  How to Unnerve Your Padawans 101.)

But there’s a softness in Ahsoka’s eyes, a kindness as she reads her. It’s almost maternal, like the way Leia looked at her after Crait.  It’s that softness that breaks through Rey’s defenses, makes her resolve crumble like sand. 

“Ahsoka,” Rey whispers, leaning closer to the blue-tinged holo-projection of her teacher like she’s actually there. “I’m scared.”

“I don’t blame you, but you can’t let fear hold you back,” the old Togruta says wisely, trying to reassure the young woman with a soft smile. 

“I can’t do this alone, Ahsoka. Not without Ben.” Tears prick at the corners of Rey’s eyes as she lowers them, ashamed to admit what she knows is true: she is only as strong as she is, as powerful as she is, because Ben Solo is there to catch her. 

“Nonsense,” Ahsoka half-snaps, her voice stern and one eyebrow cocked. “You are powerful on your own, Rey of Jakku. Ben Solo’s knowledge may fuel you, but that does not make you who you are.  There is a reason why in the end, the Force is allowing you to stand tallest. It is because the Force knows you can shoulder the burden it carries.”

“Besides,” she continues, her voice warming. “Ben Solo still stands with you. He may have lost his connection to the Force, but he is still your Ben, is he not? You still feel him through your Bond, and he feels the same, does he not?”

Rey bites her lip, thinking for a moment before nodding, tears trickling down her cheeks.  Ahsoka is right, she knows, and she feels foolish for ever doubting it. 

Doubting them.

“Your Bond cannot be severed by man or science, Rey. And your Bond connects you to Ben, and Ben to the Force. You are not alone, my dear Scavenger. The Force, and your equal in it, walk with you into this battle.”

The Force responds to Ahsoka’s words, and suddenly, she feels it wrapping around her, filling her with _light_ and **dark** , power and life.  It’s white-purple, neon and bright, blinding her in the most beautiful way.  It washes over her like a wave and makes her feel like she’s floating, the crests down her Bond with Kylo, swelling through him and giving him a burst of energy.  It combats the drug working through his blood, and while the vile chemicals manage to dampen this swell of power, it does not smother it completely.

She finds herself almost giggling, euphoric from the Force flooding through her body. 

“May the Force be with you, Rey,” Ahsoka grins. “In the meantime, I’ll catch you on the flipside.” 

“See you then, Ahsoka, and may the Force be with you also,” Rey whispers back, her veins still thrumming with ultraviolet.

=======================

TK-421’s trying desperately not to laugh.

He’s relaxing in his troop’s common area on the Dominator, or he was, until General (sorry, _Grand Marshal_ ) Hux came on over all stations to rant about the Supreme Leader’s treachery and being unfit for office.  Something about the Supreme Leader’s Jedi girlfriend, and Snoke, and Kylo Ren killing him for the girl, and a whole bunch of spittle-filled invective in between. 

TK doesn’t know much about darksiders, but an apprentice killing his master seems like their version of graduation.  Honestly, he’s not sure why Hux is so surprised.

Besides, it’s not like Snoke ever did much for Stormtroopers. 

But then Hugs, as some of the Troopers have taken to calling him, is cut off by an automated voice informing everyone that the Supreme Leader’s overriding this message to give his own speech.  Hux’s enraged squawk as he realized what was happening, cut short by the Supreme Leader’s interruption, made getting out of bed today so deliciously worth it. 

TK keeps cleaning his standard issue blaster, but his ears are more keenly attuned to the Supreme Leader’s words than they were when listening to Hux.  He’s been trained to listen to both, yes, but the recent changes in Stormtrooper policies makes TK, well, a bit more loyal to the Supreme Leader. 

At least, he’s more willing to hear Kylo Ren out. 

He’d never thought Kylo Ren to be much of a public speaker, but between his speech on Cantonica and now, TK’s re-evaluating his decision.  The Supreme Leader’s deep baritone explains the obvious: that Hux is mounting a coup. But then, he devolves into why he’s asking for the Troopers to _choose_ to fight _with_ him. 

Those words immediately stand out to TK, and based on the murmured reactions of his brethren, they’re equally intrigued.  Choice has never been part of a Stormtrooper’s life, especially when it comes to orders. Orders are orders, after all. 

Nor has an officer, much less the _Supreme Kriffing Leader_ , asked a Trooper to fight _with_ him. 

Oh, TK’s definitely listening now. 

Kylo Ren’s dark eyes bore into his as he makes a case for why the Troopers should fight for him.  He not only reminds them of the changes he’s made, but states that he did it to improve their lives, their well-being.  “I know you all are not clones, not droids, but people. Humans. You bleed like I do, hunger like I do, and, like all humans, deep down, you want to be free.”

Oh. That makes TK’s spine straighten a little more, eyes widening with almost disbelief.  The Supreme Leader continues, explaining how his hope for the Order to truly bring peace, justice, and yes, even freedom, to the Galaxy includes his own soldiers, too.  How he knows the threat and fear of reconditioning hangs over them like a guillotine. How they are taught to become droids, for all intents and purposes. How they are taught not to care about their fallen brothers and sisters, even when their bloody handprints stain their own armor.

It’s odd, how that wording makes something flash before his eyes. A stormtrooper’s helmet, pristine white except for a smudged, bloody handprint across its face. 

Something stirs inside TK.  Something deep and ancient, that’s slept too long and now unfurls itself like a rancor yawning.  It swells within him as he looks around, at his fellow Troopers. KL, MN, DC, the three women he considers to be sisters.  His brother and leader, IO. People he would live and breathe for, yet people whom he must pretend never to care for. 

To survive, they have been forced to suppress something natural.

Something right. 

Unlike Hux, who was in the middle of ordering the Troopers to fight for him, Kylo Ren explains why they should choose to stand with him.  That if he wins, he will end reconditioning forever. Troopers will be allowed to return home, to re-find their families if they want. He will allow interpersonal relationships, bonding. Choice. 

Freedom. 

Gods damn, TK thinks, the Supreme Leader’s one helluva speaker. Even his skeptical chest is burning with pride, with a desire to pick up his blaster and fight for Kylo Ren.  There’s a current of emotions tumbling out of whatever closet TK locked them away in: love, companionship, compassion, _hope_.  

And fear - fear that his brothers and sisters will not choose him, fear that they are all too lost to Hux’s programming. 

TK takes a deep, shaky breath as Kylo’s speech ends.  The holoviewer fades to black, leaving a room full of stunned Troopers.

After a moment, IO stands up.  He takes a moment to walk to the front of the room, pacing in front of his people as he looks each of them in the eye.  

Examining.

Evaluating.

And then he says something that makes TK’s chest burst, joy flooding through his veins. 

“Well, then, I think we’re all decided, aren’t we,” IO declares. “Let’s go show Hugs where our loyalties _really_ lie.”

Twenty-three blasters raise in the air, every member of their troop choosing to unite in solidarity. 

For freedom.

============================

Back on the command shuttle, Kylo Ren spins around in his seat to face the others.  His face is set with determination, eyes crackling with a fire that matches his words.

“Now,” he says, “let’s go save Kittara Ren.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Insert Braveheart gif]
> 
> Well now. Looks like Ben Solo definitely inherited some maternal political genes, eh? And how’d you like that nod to Finn’s awakening on Jakku? (To those of you playing the Safe Harbor drinking game, please take a drink for “Lilah forces symbolism down our throats”.)
> 
> Seriously, this was not easy to write.  Early versions had Kylo’s speech in full, and told from his POV. Frankly, it sounded like a closing statement for the People v. Hux, which was cool and all, but lacked… pizazz. 
> 
> And so, our old friend, TK-421, rises again. Anyone who got the reference, please sound off in the comments so I know I’m not the only ANH nerd here. 
> 
> Also, I am so sorry again that this took so long. Work has been something between the lines of "insane" and "I didn't know I could work 20/24 hours without dying" for he past couple of weeks, due to some stuff happening there. Writing is my escape, but when I literally don't have time, I don't get to do it because job wins. Luckily, there's light at the end of the tunnel, meaning I should be back to updating regularly by the end of April. 
> 
> On that note, so many thanks and so much love to my Beta, [Ben'sLostTookaCat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CJWritesAgain/pseuds/BensLostTookaCat), for helping me get this chapter in shape. You are a fucking lifesaver, my dear. Thank you for also letting me rant about everything and being so damn supportive. 
> 
> Anyways, here we are, people! The coup’s underway, as well as a Stormtrooper rebellion. Ahsoka’s off to her safe place, and Rey feels empowered AF. Now it’s time for the final fight! Ladies and Gentlemen, you’re all invited to Safe Harbor’s first ever Hell in a Cell match! That’s right, we’re putting Kylo Ren, Rey, and a very drugged and pissed off Kittara Ren in a chain-link cage with Armitage Hux and his Coup Crew. It’s a showdown between good and evil, which will be broadcast live on HBO for the low price of—
> 
> *coughs* Sorry about that. My old WWE memories took over there. Anyways, no Hell in a Cell (although damn, would that be fun) but it’s. FUCKIN’. TIME. Y’ALL.  Take a Xanax, grab some tissues, and prepare yourselves. It’s coming. 
> 
> Place your predictions in the comments below, and thank you all for reading!!!

**Author's Note:**

> Get it? The Ackbar? Get it? Cause it's a trap!!!!
> 
> I crack myself up. 
> 
> Anyways, hopefully I caught all the typos and it wasn't a total dumpster fire. If I missed one, let me know. 
> 
> Feel free to follow my tumblr - @itsalilah. Mostly Reylo with a hint of BtVS.


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